


Edge of the Universe

by mondaysips



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: AU, Altean Lance (Voltron), Balmeran Hunk (Voltron), Galra Keith (Voltron), M/M, Olkari Pidge | Katie Holt, Prince Lance (Voltron), Slow Burn, Voltron au, space alliance au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-04-08 06:36:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 70,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14099433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mondaysips/pseuds/mondaysips
Summary: As the universe is shaken by the news of Emperor Zarkon's death, overwhelming suspicions rises at Prince Lotor's call for peace and request to meet the Space Alliance in New Altea. Even if princess Allura agrees to the meeting, prince Lance is not going to let this go by without a say in the matter._______________________________Note: I was very bummed by the lack of consensual/healthy LanceLot fics around here, so I decided to write one.





	1. Arrival

“Hey, Lance! Lance, buddy, wait up!”

In the narrow bridge-like hallway connecting the castle to the city, the Balmeran runs after the lanky silhouette of his friend. Lance turns around, silver ruffled hair shifting with the motion, continuing to walk backward while staring at the newcomer. His dark expression turns bright as stars when he recognizes the running one.

“Hunk! When did you get here?” Lance stops walking to let his friend catch up to him. “Just now,” says the yellow-clad Balmeran, huffing from the effort of running up the thin stair-like levels of the floor. He finally stops in front of his friend, putting his hands on his knees to catch his breath. Lance snickers, patting his back with a sympathetic hand. “Too much nerd stuff, not enough training, huh?” Hunk raises a finger to object. “Science,” he says, “and mechanics. Never enough of those.” He finally straightens up, an amused expression on his face. “It’s good to see you, buddy.”

Lance smiles back, his light blue Altean markings rising up with his cheeks. “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah, it feels super weird,” the bigger one agrees while scratching his neck with a claw. “I still can’t believe that… you know… Zarkon’s dead.”

Lance sighs, turning his gaze up to the see-through dome that encapsulate the hallway. “Right back at you.” He suddenly frowns, holding out his arms “And we had nothing to do with it! Stars! I always imagined it would be this huge epic showdown with him and us and Voltron and we’d go like BLAM! PEW PEW PEW! KABOOM! See what I mean?”

Hunk awkwardly stepped back to avoid the lanky guy’s energetic mimics and laugh. “Yeah, yeah, I gotcha. Been there, thought that, and all that.”

A silence falls between them, staring at each other, the tension of the situation finally settling in on them.

“So… how do you feel?” Hunk’s yellow eyes are filled with concern. Lance crosses his arms, breathing in. “Not good.” He groans, raising his arms up in exasperation. “I don’t want them coming here, man! I just… don’t! We’ve been at war with the Galra Empire since I can remember. I’m not about to forget it just because Prince whatever succeeded with his coup d’état.” His voice suddenly shoots up another octave as he continues, stepping closer to Hunk. “What if Zarkon isn’t even dead? Maybe they made it all up! Just to try and infiltrate the Space Alliance and quiznak it up.”

Hunk is concerned, but shrug nonetheless. “I don’t know, Lance. The way those rogue galran generals have been acting up makes me believe that he really is gone.”   

The Altean blinks, suddenly drawn back to reality. “Oh, yeah… have you got any news from Pidge?” Hunk lights up, happy that the subject turned to their friend. “Sure, yeah, I talked with her on my way here. She was on her way too, with Green. She says she might be late, though, because she was helping out with the rebuilding on Olkari before leaving…”

The planet Olkari was one of those hit by the collaterals of Zarkon’s death: rogue generals trying to hit hard at the Space Alliance’s planets so that they would gain power and reputation amongst the Empire. Or so they’ve heard: who knows what is really going on behind the scene?

Lance runs a hand through his silver hair, long ear twitching as his fingers runs past it. “It’s tough.”

“Yeah… it sucks that she has to leave so soon. Especially since her lion can really help with rejuvenating the infected parts of the forest. B-but it can’t be helped, right, because we need the lions to be here; secure and ready,” he quickly adds after catching his friend’s gaze. Lance let out a pensive sound. “I don’t know Hunk… I feel like I’d rather have them scattered across the galaxy.”

“Woah. Why’s that?”

“The Empire has always been after Voltron. And now we’re gathering all the lions here, exactly where the Galra are coming. I feel like we’re putting Voltron on a platter for them.”

“But Allura said it’d be safer this way, did she not?”

Lance looks at Hunk’s puzzled expression. “She did,” he concedes. “I guess she’s right. If things turn out badly, we could Voltron up and kick some butts.”

“Some Galra butts.”

“Some big Galra butts.”

The two of them snickers like children. The mood seems to have lighten up a bit. The Altean raises his arms above his head to stretch. “Alright. I was on my way into the City; wanna come?”

“Yes. Definitely. It’s been way too long since I’ve been in Constellation City.”

With a feline-like smile, Lance turns around to proceed walking up the hallway, Hunk following him close by.

Constellation City is the name commonly used to refer to New Altea, the broken-up agglomeration of land and ships where lives the remnants of the Alteans and where are located the Space Alliance’s headquarters. After Altea’s demise, years ago, some Altean alchemists, with the help of the Olkari and Balmerans, were able to reuse pieces of the broken planet to create artificial lands, encapsulated in domes. Giant glass marbles floating in space, help together by a string of intricate, flexible bridges. From far away, the installations definitely look like a constellation.

It is the late King Alfor who designed the plans for it before passing away. Gravely hurt in Altea’s destruction, he was bed ridden for years before succumbing to his wounds. Allura is the one who took over and officially created the Space Alliance.

It started with Balmera, with whom the Altean always had a symbiotic relationship. They were vital to power all their systems. Of course, there was also the Olkari, who were more than happy to create a long-lasting relationship with another technologically advance civilization. Then slowly, as they took action against the Galra Empire, all civilizations that wanted to join were welcomed: the proud Arusians, the people from sunken Taujeer, the disseminated Rebel forces all over the universe and more.

The Blade of Marmora made themselves known well later. It all happened when Lance had infiltrated a Galra base and freed all of it’s prisoners. He got in a spot of trouble but was helped out by masked aliens: members of the Blade. One of them had been a young, infuriating, impulsive young Galra. One thing led to another, and that annoying brat was now Lance’s good friend Keith, and the Blade of Marmora a full-fledged part of the Space Alliance. They became a key to obtain intel and conduct missions to fight off the Galra’s tyrannical rule.

And so, they’ve been at war, the Alliance versus the Empire, for decapheebs. New Altea, however, has been relatively safe throughout the years, always moving across the universe thanks to Princess Allura’s unique ability to create wormholes. If danger ever came their way, they would send Team Voltron to stop the approach of their enemies and hide Constellation City away to protect the civilians. The fragile structure holds the last few members of an near-extinct civilization, after all, as well as refuges from all over the universe and must be protected at all cost.

This strategy is the reason why New Altea keeps such a light atmosphere and beautiful scenery even if they’ve been through such rough times: a true haven. The City – the market-like piece of land nearest to the Castle of Lions – is always bustling with people, bright artificial sun-light bathing the marketplace in warmth as the divine smell of the altean flowers lightly flows by. All kind of aliens shop and sell in the City, some of them living on New Altea or only docking in to refurbish their stocks.

Lance and Hunk are going after very specific goods that quintent. In Hunk’s case, it’s all the delicious homemade food he can put his clawed balmeran hands on. For Lance, it’s all the pretty girls he can wink and smile at in the busy bazaar.

They’ve been at it for a few vargas, one with a bit more luck than the other in their pursuit (hint: it’s Hunk), when Lance suddenly grabs the bigger man to drag him behind a fabric stand.

“Quiznak! It’s Shiro!”

Looking over a pile of fabric rolls with eccentric designs, Hunk follows Lance’s panicked gaze to see the familiar white tuft of hair on the other side of the market.

“So it seems. Why are we hiding?”

“Because he’s on Knight duty.”

“Night duty? Ain’t that, like, forever duty? Being as there are always stars all around in Constellation City.”

“Not NIGHT duty, idiot, KNIGHT duty. As in Allura’s KNIGHT.”

“Man. Being a Knight AND a Paladin of Voltron must be tough. Very heavy. Figuratively. Well, I guess literally also, that armor doesn’t look like it’s very light- OUCH, LANCE?!”

“Get DOWN. Are you food drunk? You sound stupid. Stupid.”

“Hey, woah. Stop it. If you say it that much you’ll end up hurting my feelings.”

“I don’t see him anymore. Where did he go? Hunk, do you see him?”

“No I don’t, ‘cause you shoved me down in a pile of cloth.”

“I guess he left,” says Lance while getting up. “Come on Hunk, you can get up.”

The balmeran gets up with a disgruntled look on his face. “Do this Hunk, do that Hunk, shut up Hunk,” he mumbles to himself, straightening his bright garments while holding cautiously his half-eaten skewers with one hand. “I still don’t see how Shiro being on knight duty is a bad thing to you,” he adds, louder.

Lance sighs and emphasize every word, as if speaking with a child: “B e c a u s e, official political meeting means protocol, protocol means stupid etiquette classes and stupid etiquette classes means even more stupid little details that I have to de- “

“My Prince.”

The Altean boy cringes, raising his fists to the sky in frustration as he recognizes the voice that called from behind him. He let his arms fall limply at his sides and turn slowly on his heels, putting on his face the most pitiful expression he can muster.

He finds himself facing a most stoic and unimpressed Shiro. His shining white armor and black cape squares him up in such an impressive way that his shadow falls on Lance like an inevitable doom. He still doesn’t let himself get discouraged.

“Shiroooo…” he starts to whine, “I already spent full quintents on this stuff. Can’t I have some fun? Look, Hunk just arrived!”

The balmeran boy waves a hand awkwardly. “Heeeey Shiro.” A little smile floats up to the knight’s lips. “Hello Hunk. It’s nice to see you.”

“It’s nice to see you too, buddy,” replies Hunk, relieved he wasn’t in any kind of trouble for Lance’s conduct. He finishes a few of his skewers while looking at the two others, curious on how the situation will unfolds.

“You are requested back to the Castle, prince Lance,” continue Shiro, turning his gaze back toward the reluctant Altean. Lance folds his arm on his chest, defiantly. “I will not. I have a few vargas left to myself before New Altea becomes insufferable and I will spend them well.”

“Spend them well indeed, at the Castle, where princess Allura is waiting for you.” Truly, Shiro is unshakeable. Lance groan, bending his back forward so his head hangs low. “I don’t wanna do these boring classes anymore, Shiro. I know how to act at dinner, alright! I’ll put the stupid napkin on my legs, use all the cutelry in the right order, chew with my mouth closed: stars! I’ll even wash my hands!”

“You… don’t always wash your hands?” ask Hunk with a glance and Lance glares back with an impatient growl.

“Point is-“ he continues, “I know all that stuff, okay, I don’t need to be told over and over and over and over and over-“

“Are you done?” Shiro raises an eyebrow, trying to look stern albeit being definitely entertained. “No,” stubbornly states Lance. “And over, and over, and over, and over. There. Now I’m done.”

Shiro takes in a long breath and smiles. “Well, you’ll be glad to know that it has nothing to do with etiquette classes, then.” Lance slightly raises his eyebrows, curious but cautious. “Oh?”

“You need to come to the castle for some final adjustment to your official garments. Princess Allura made it very clear that you were to come as soon as I found you.”

Lance sighs, pressing a hand to his face. Hunk raises a questioning hand and Shiro looks at him. “Yes?”

“When you say ‘official garments’, is it like, princely clothes, with, like, shiny, tight fabrics, with lots of frills and laces and stuff?”

The corner of Shiro’s mouth curls up. “Something like that, yes.”

Hunk’s smile is gigantic as he grabs his lanky friend to lift him up in a joyous betrayal. “I’ve got to see that.”

Lance rolls his eyes, but he knows better than to argue against a lost cause. He let his friend carry him like a bag thrown over his shoulder as Shiro walks beside them, casually talking with Hunk.

Lance hates to admit that he’s never won an argument with Shiro. Though, in all honesty, he never really wanted to win: he has a deep admiration for the man. Shiro is a survivor. A human from Earth, whose ship crashed near a Galra battlecruiser and was taken prisoner. He lived in slavery for more than a year before he was finally able to escape, being picked up by a Space Alliance’s ship soon after.

He was met with a bit of suspicion at New Altea, at first, because of the Galra prosthetic he has in place of his right arm, but all fears melted away when the shield of the Black Lion dissipated at his contact. It was the first time the Black Lion let down his shield since Zarkon’s betrayal. Lance still remembers that day clearly.

He also remembers the day Allura made Shiro an altean knight. It caused quite a stir, as he was the first ever non-altean to get the title, but people were quick to take a shine to him. How could they not? He is noble, loyal, determined and strong: the best leader Team Voltron could have hoped for. Lance always thought he would be angry at whoever got to pilot the Black Lion, being as it always stayed closed off to him, but he’s never been happier than the day Shiro wore his uniform for the first time.

His knight armor closely resembles his Voltron suit, only sturdier and shinier. He usually wears it to underline his duty as pertaining to the Royal Family. Like today. He and Hunk are standing on one side of the room, looking critically at the altean prince being fussed over by two seamstresses and a very enthusiastic Coran, the royal advisor.

“Stand straight young man. Straight I said!”

“Coran,” strains the prince, grimacing with his arms hovering far from his sides “my back bone is going to snap if I try to stand straighter than this.” The redhead man grabs Lance’s shoulders, looking solemn. “A great man once told me that beauty is pain. Now, stand straighter, my Prince.”

Shiro whispers to Hunk, bending slightly his way: “I should never have taught him that.” The Balmeran snickers, enjoying the scene. There is no lace or frills in sight yet, but Lance is currently being fitted into a tight black bodysuit, which is apparently not tight enough because they keep adjusting it. Although being a color not often worn by altean royals, the fabric is slightly shiny where it catches the light, like the faint glitter of faraway stars. It covers Lance’s thin legs and torso, even creeping up his neck a bit, but leaving his arms bare, allowing the light blue altean markings on his biceps to be seen.

“How many more touch ups do you need to do?” whines Lance. Coran looks at him sternly, curling his moustache with a finger. “As much as needed, Lance. Tonight’s meeting is a decisive one. Maybe the start of a new era of peace! First impressions matter, you know? We can’t let the new galran Emperor see New Altea’s prince as a slouchy, lanky, ill-mannered boy, now, can we?”

“I’m not lanky,” pouts the lanky boy. “I don’t think they would even care, Coran. Have you ever seen a Galra wear anything else than armor? For all we know, to make a good impression I should wear my lion’s suit, eh?” Lance grins, snapping his head towards Shiro and Hunk. “Don’t you think so?”

“I don’t,” Shiro answers without hesitation. “Wearing our Voltron gear might be perceived as mistrust or hostility, given armor is not part of any of our cultural heritages.” Hunk chuckles, shrugging his shoulders. “Yeah, well, I sure never wear any armor apart from my lion’s suit. It’s hard to make a suit sturdier than a Balmeran’s skin.”

The seamstress finishes their adjustments and Lance let his arms down with a relieved sigh. “Oh man, my arms were getting tired.”

“Think of it as training for a future gunshow, buddy.” Hunk smiles, crossing his arms. Lance turns to him, amused. “Oh yeah? Think I need any more training than this?” he says, flexing his arms in a ridiculous succession of poses.

“Please, Lance, put those away,” replies a snarky little voice and the prince spins around, surprised, toward the door that just slid open. The small green shape of an Olkari teenager stands in the doorway, adjusting her glasses with a finger. Behind her, hiding her laugh behind a polite hand, stands a pretty altean woman with long flowing silver curly hair.

The prince laughs before flexing one last time to blow on his biceps like one would at the tip of a steaming blaster, then putting his arms down with a wink. “Come on in, ladies, it’s safe now.”

“Pidge!” Hunk crosses the room quickly and lift the little one in his arms, squeezing the air out of her lungs. “Hunk, you’re killing me…”

“Oops, sorry.” He lets her down, patting her clothes straight again. “I got very excited there for a tick.” He laughs and Pidge has a little smile. “Well, I guess a hug is good once is a while.”

Shiro approaches also, smiling, and gives a curt, polite nod at the smaller one. “Welcome back, Pidge,” he says, before looking to the woman accompanying her and giving a slight bow. “My Lady.” She bows back, smiling, then turn to Lance who was being surrounded once again by dutiful tailors. They make him rise his arms before putting a loose-fitting tunic over his head. White and gold, it hangs on his shoulders and opens from his arms to his waist, where a long golden band, like a belt, is being tied by one of the seamstresses.

He lets them work before looking at the newcomers. “Allura, how come YOU aren’t in some fancy dress?” She puts her hands on her hips and cocks her head to the side. “Because I did the adjustment to my clothing yesterday, as you should have too instead of leaving it to the last dobash!” She walks up to the boy. “More importantly,” she adds, “I came to tell you about tonight’s schedule. I want you to be in the hall, with me, the moment the Galra Empire’s fleet arrives. No sneaking around or goofing off.”

Lance rolls his eyes. “Yeah, right, as if I’d leave you alone with Prince What’s-his-face.” She frowns. “His name is Lotor. Prince Lotor. And I expect you to address him as such, Lance.”

“Shouldn’t he be _Emperor_ Lotor?” hissed the younger boy, looking distantly at a wall. “Since he killed his father, and all.” Allura clicks her tongue in a rebuking manner. “I would also like for you not to bring up that subject. What he did might very well have ended a war.”

“Might.” Lance repeats the word with emphasis. He looks at her. “So you’re still doubting his motive? And yet, you let him come straight to New Altea.” He seems offended, defensive even. She glares at him, seems about to say something, then sighs, calming herself. “…Yes,” she starts slowly, folding her hands in front of her, “I still have my doubts. But this is a unique chance, Lance. A chance for peace. And as the leader of the Space Alliance, and of New Altea, I cannot let this opportunity go without doing everything I can to make it work.”

The seamstresses seem to be satisfied with their work and leaves to get yet another piece of garment. Lance stares at Allura, older than him and yet so much more frail and delicate. He rubs distractedly the big golden ring on his left hand, pensive, then sighs also. “I know…” he says. “And… I’m sorry I’m being difficult about it. It’s just…”

He bites his lip, trailing off. A small smile softens Allura’s face and she raises a hand to Lance’s cheek. “I know, Lance. Thank you.” She moves her hand to his head, ruffling his hair slightly. “But trust me on this. And give me strength, by being by my side.” Lance gives an apologetic smile. “I will.”

The sweet moment is abruptly cut off by the seamstresses return, and Coran’s polite cough. As the tailors pull a ton of heavy fabric over Lance’s head, Coran takes Allura to the side to speak with her.

“Pardon me, princess, but have you gotten any word from the Blade of Marmora?” he asks, speaking in a low voice. Lance tries to listen as he is being pulled and twisted around. “Sadly, none.” Allura sounds concerned. “Last time I was able to speak with Kolivan was on the day of Olkari’s attack. Ever since then I could only get to one of his officers. I don’t know if my messages made it to him.”

Lance bite his lip again, looking to his friends, talking enthusiastically on the other side of the room. So the Blade won’t be coming, tonight. He had hoped… He had hoped they would. Not that there is any problem with the Red Lion: it’s already here, at the castle. It has been ever since Keith had to leave for more serious missions with the Blade. As it turns out, Lance can pilot the Red Lion, and as Allura is able to pilot Blue, there has never been a problem with the galran boy’s absence… but… He misses Keith. He hasn’t seen him in forever. And he would feel safer with him around.

“Oh oh! Look at this handsome boy!” Lance is pulled from his thoughts by Coran’s energic voice. He suddenly realizes that all eyes are on him and he can’t keep a blush from creeping up to his cheeks.  He turns his head to the side, where a mirror allows him to see himself. The heavy cloth, as it turns out, was a long asymmetrical deep blue cape, loosely draped on his shoulders, with a big hood on his back. He turns his head back to the tailors as they bring him his final accessories: large gold bracelets with ancient altean scriptures on it to cover his forearms, deep blue gems hung with gold chains for his ear, golden folded metal sheets to cover their pointed tips, and his prince’s crown, a gold circlet, lightly put on top of his silver hair.

“Yes, quite handsome,” agrees Allura, folding her arms in a satisfied manner.

“Gotta admit Lance, you actually look princely for once,” Hunk pipes up, coming closer. Pidge snickers, doing the same. “Yeah, well, wait until he starts talking and the whole illusion will fall apart.”

“Oh, shut it Pidge.” Lance tries to look annoyed, but he smiles. “Am I free to go now?” he ask, turning towards the princess. “Yes, Lance, you can go. Be careful not to mess up your garments, we can’t afford more readjustments. We only have a few vargas left before the Consulate arrives.”

“Speaking of which, my Lady, you might need to think about changing yourself.” Shiro stops to her left, hands behind his back. She smiles, looking at him. “Yes, you’re right. Perhaps I should go now.” The human smiles back and offer his arm to her. Allura takes it before turning to Coran. “We’ll meet in my apartment in a varga or so?”

“As you wish, princess.”

She smiles and turn towards the seamstresses, thanking them for their work. “Now, Hunk, Pidge,” she adds, turning to the two aliens. “I’m counting on you.”

“No worries princess, we got this.” Pidge smiles, doing a small military salute with her four-fingered hand. Shiro and Allura leave, as Coran talks with the seamstresses. Lance walks towards the door, grabbing his friends by their arms to pull them with him. “Let’s go before Coran decides I need more training or something.”

“Well, to be fair, you’ve never been too good with these meetings,” Pidge chimes in, stretching lazily. “You still write notes in the palm of your hand, right?”

“Nooooo. That was one time. One!” protests Lance. Hunk laughs heartily, remembering it. “Oh man, it was a disaster. You left that huge ink mark on that minister’s back!” The Balmeran gets teary-eyed just thinking about it, laughing.

“What I’m saying is just, they have reasons to want you to be more serious about this. Which makes me think: Allura wanted me to tell you of the seating arrangement.” Pidge  looks up at Lance, drawing an oval shape in the air with her fingers.

“Allura will be sitting at the middle. You’ll be on her right and Prince Lotor will be on her left.”

“I don’t like this” Lance grumbles, walking slightly faster. “I told her to sit him on the other side of the room.”

“It’s hard to talk politics with someone meters away, though. Also, Hunk will be sitting to _your_ right, and I next to him. ‘To keep you in check’, Allura said.”

“Keep ME in check? He’s the one we should be wary of! He’s Galra! And a murderer!” Lance raises a hand to underline the evidence he just stated. Pidge shrugs. “I don’t like him as much as you, but, isn’t it a bit hypocritical to condemn him for doing something we tried to do for years?”

Lance stammers, waving his hands around: “It’s- it’s not, I mean we- Quiznak, Pidge! It’s not the same thing. _We_ were trying to save the universe.”

“So did he. There is nothing yet to prove otherwise.”

Silence falls on the trio. Hunk fidget, then coughs, trying to chance the subject. “Sooo… how is Ryner doing?”

“She’s good,” Pidge says, shrugging, “she’s working a lot to repair the damaged city. It’s going well, though, should be all back to normal soon. The forest is the one that suffered most.” The smaller one turns to the Balmeran. “How’s Shay?”

Hunk’s yellow eyes lights up. “She’s great! She’s getting waaay better at dealing with ships engines and she says sh-“

“Still not your girlfriend?” interrupts Lance. The Balmeran blushes – or well, turns a darker shade of brown – flustered. “No, Lance, she is not my girlfriend. How many times do I have to say that _it’s not like that_.”

“A few more times still. I mean, anyone would think that, with the way your eyes just sparkle every time we talk of her.”

“They do not!”

“They do!”

The bickering continues, echoing in the castle’s hallways, cut by laughter from time to time. How long has it been since such a relaxed atmosphere filled this ship? Lance can’t help but wish that this thing could last. This… peace. This end. He’s never felt more useful than by being a Paladin of Voltron: he’s a poor prince, an even poorer leader, and even in Team Voltron he’s the weakest link, but… But he felt like he finally was able to do something good.

He was pondering this, leaning on the handrail before a window on the side of the castle, rubbing his ring again, when Hunk’s heavy arm fell on his shoulders.

“What?” Lance looks up to his friend, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re gonna be fine, Lance.” Was he reading his mind? The Balmeran always had this incredible ability to guess his thoughts and feelings at a glance. Lance laughs slightly, straightens himself up while looking at the stars, outside, the faint glimmer of New Altea’s other zones visible on some sides. Some ships have been appearing slowly, as the members of the Space Alliance’s consulate have been arriving to Constellation City.

“If you ever feel like jumping on the table and punching that purple dude in the face,” continues the bigger guy, “just turn to my side and I’ll change your mind with a joke or something.”

Lance laughs, shaking his head. “Yeah, sure, why not. I’ll take all the help I can get.”

Pidge was a few meters away, talking to Ryner on her comm. She’s been at it for a while, now. Truly, she was put in a difficult position, coming all the way over here in such a time: usually, Ryner is the consul for Olkari, but as the Green Lion was needed at the castle, and restauration efforts are still going on on Pidge’s planet, it was the better solution for her to assume the role of consul for one night. And she’s not even complaining about it. Lance feels a tinge of culpability and looks back towards space.

Just in time to see three crosses of purple light shine briefly, in succession, and as much Galra Battlecruisers suddenly appear. His heart stops in his chest, his blood buzzing in his ears because of the sudden standstill. His hands clenches on the handrail. His worst nightmare has always been to see those purple ships appear this close to New Altea. He’s been dreading this day forever and here it is, suddenly. Somehow, it’s worst than he ever imagined. He clenches his jaws.

Prince Lotor has arrived.


	2. Smiles are politics

The Great Hall of the Castle of Lions is bustling with all kinds of aliens. People are standing on either side of the room, leaving the path from the entrance to the stairs open. The buzzing of conversations is tense, excited and expecting, all at once. Some members of the Consulate look more irritated than others, but none seem to be pleased with the present situation.

The number of people allowed in the castle, that night, is very limited: each consul could only bring 2 persons of their entourage with them. And, of course, it was very insisted upon that all had to be unarmed. If that last rule has always been in place for the Space Alliance’s meetings, a few numbers of the consuls had surprisingly brought weapons along that quintent and had to be thoroughly patted down before being let in. Obviously, Lance wasn’t the only one having his doubts about this.

The Prince stands at the handrail at the top of the stairs, next to Allura. She was now wearing a white and gold dress that left her shoulders bare, but had silky sleeves covering her arms, hiding away her altean markings. A transparent black fabric, stitched with golden beads, cover her back, going all the way to the floor like a cape made from the fabric of space.  On top of her silver hair rested a gold circlet, the same as Lance’s. She was gorgeous and the boy was left speechless when he reunited with her after the Galra’s fleet’s arrival. A blush crept up her face when Lance commented on how Shiro and she made a fitting pair with that color scheme, and he is sure to have seen Shiro cough slightly to hide his face.

Lance and Allura were both silently gazing down at the aliens in the hall, heartbeats steady, breathing deeply. Hunk and Pidge are down there, speaking with the other members of the consulate. Any moment now, Coran would return with the galran prince. Lance turns his head towards Allura, straightening himself. He reaches out to take her hand, squeezing it slightly. She smiles, still looking at the members of the Alliance, and squeezes back.

Lance doesn’t hear it, at first, because the voices are so loud, but the aliens closest to the entryway begins to go quiet as they notice. Like a wave, the silence settles in, all gazes turning toward the huge hallway from which heavy footsteps are heard. Approaching.

Lance hears Allura exhale slowly and, without letting her hand go, he takes her towards the top of the stairs, where Shiro stiffly keeps guard. She follows him, but takes her hand back as they reach their spot next to Shiro. As the royals face the entryway, the knight respectfully steps back behind Allura. Allura folds her hand in front of her, in a prim manner. Lance doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He puts them behind his back before deciding it might look suspicious, then bring them out front, imitating Allura. But doesn’t that look just weird? He panics, the footsteps so close now, and let his hands fall to his side at the last minute.

In the bright lights of the hallway finally appears Coran, who quickly steps to the side in a formal fashion. Just as the purple silhouettes cross the hall’s entryway, Coran’s powerful voice echoes all around the hall.

“Prince Lotor, of the Galra Empire!”

There are three of them, one standing in front while the others flank him from a step back. These two are obviously the prince’s entourage: giant Garla officers – probably generals, judging by their armors – towering above Coran, with yellow pupil-less eyes and purple fur. The one before them, however…

Lance had to make a mental effort to keep his face from showing his confusion. He’d seen Zarkon before. Tons of times. Not only when they fought, but also from the multiple times he contacted them, taunting them, throwing deadly ultimatums their way. He thought he had a pretty accurate idea of what the prince would look like. He was wrong.

He was first surprised by how small he looked next to the generals, although he was way taller than Coran was. His silhouette was slender, looking thin even in full armor. Long white hair cascading down his back, pointed ears peaking in front, peering eyes going around the room as the three Galra walk slowly towards the stairs.  

The silence is deafening. So much that Lance feels like everyone can hear him gulp as the galran prince put his foot on the first stair, eyes latched onto Allura and him. He climbs them up steadily, as his generals stay at the bottom, looking quite displeased about it: Coran probably told them to do so, as it was protocol around here and they were surprisingly abiding by it.

Lotor reaches the top of the stairs, still in this surreal silence, and stops in front of the royals. Lance hates that he has to slightly bend his head backward to be able to look the Galra in the face. Allura is in the same position, but she takes a step forward, smiling, raising her hands.

“Welcome,” she says, loud enough to be heard throughout the hall thanks to the acoustic of it, “to New Altea. The Consulate of the Space Alliance welcomes you and extend their gratitude to you and your fleet, prince Lotor.” She bows slightly, deferent and noble.

Suddenly, the magic spell is broken, and the silence dissipates in low, distant murmurs. Allura raises her head and puts a hand to her chest, her calm smile still present. “I am princess Allura, leader of the Space Alliance and of New Altea.”

Lance’s eyes never left Lotor’s face, carefully scrutinizing any emotions showing through as Allura spoke. He wore a pleasant smile on his lips, heavy eyelids giving to his yellow eyes a kind of calmness. His irises – wait, he has irises? Yes, he does! His irises are deep blue, slitted by black straight pupils. Lance doesn’t know how to react to those eyes, those… non-galran eyes.

Lotor lowers his head and bends forward, putting a knee down in front of Allura, resting one arm on his thigh while his other hand presses on the ground. He moved slowly and yet Lance still had a reflexive twitch in his hand, the kind of movement he does to bring his bayard out : but he has no bayard with him, and his hand stays empty.

“I thank you, princess Allura, for this opportunity,” begins Lotor, and Lance feels a shiver going up his spine. Ah, there it is : this voice – this deep, husky voice – definitely resemble Zarkon’s. “I am deeply touched by your welcome,” he continues, lifting his face towards Allura’s, “and am humbled by this assembly.”

He raises a hand, reaching towards Allura’s, but Lance feels a burn in his stomach and quickly steps forward, catching it in his own. As if he’d let him take Allura’s hand! He squeezes it and shakes it fiercely, in a human handshake Shiro had taught him., deviously smiling from ear to ear.

“Yes, yes, very happy about this meeting.” He says loudly, feeling Allura’s glare burning holes in the side of his face. Lotor, although visibly startled by this intrusion, quickly regain his confidence and firmly squeezes the tanned hand back, stopping his shaking.

“My apologies. I should also extend my feelings to you, prince…?” He raises an eyebrow, waiting for an answer. Either he knew New Altea’s rulers were both a prince and a princess, but didn’t know their names, or he totally guessed that title on the spot on circumstantial clues. Any way, Lance was offended.

“The name’s Lance,” he says flatly, raising his head in a way that allowed him to look down even more on the other. Lotor doesn’t seem attained by this cold introduction in any way, still smiling.

“Well, prince Lance,” he insisted on the words, as if catering to a child’s stubbornness – Lance hates it – before squeezing his hand harder and suddenly pulling him forward to help himself up, “it is a pleasure to make you acquaintance.”

Lance almost stumbled forward by the pull, and quickly bent back as Lotor’s face came close to his own on his way up. He feels his ears burning, an embarrassed blush making its way from them to his face. Lotor’s hand lets go, sliding out of his own, and only then does Lance realizes he stopped squeezing it a long time ago. He hides his hand on his side, rubbing his finger on his palm: his skin was… so smooth. He doesn’t know why his brain decided to point out this information and he has no idea what to do with it.

Trying to regain his cool, he avoids looking at Lotor and Allura, who are talking together in low voices, as the official welcome has ended. His gaze meets Shiro’s: he’s standing way closer to Allura than he was earlier, a hand clenched on the hip he usually has his altean broadsword latched onto. Well, seems Lance wasn’t the only one put on edge by Lotor’s moves. The two men exchange a quick nod before turning away from each other.  

Allura turns around, walking towards the meeting room, Lotor by her side. Shiro follows straight away, but Lance throws a look down the stairs to the generals. One of them, a woman with very fluffy ears, looks at him with an amused smile. Lance’s jaw clenches and he stomps his way to the meeting room. He feels like he was somehow made fun of, although he was sure he had the upper hand.

The Consulate is slowly gathered by the servants, the consuls and their entourage making their way to the oval table in the meeting room. All consuls and all paladins have a seat identified by a banner to their colors, except for Shiro, who stands behind Allura’s seat, next to Coran, very much like all the consul’s entourage stand behind their representative.

From his seat at the curved table, Lance can see prince Lotor clearly, on the other side of Allura. He has put his elbows on the table, clawed hands intertwined and he looked at the princess with a serious expression, carefully listening to her explanations of how a Consulate’s meeting goes. It is pretty straightforward – even Lance gets it – but it can become quite complicated if you speak out of turn – which Lance does a lot. Once the hubbub quieted down a bit, everybody in their seats, Allura throws a look around the table.

“Is everyone ready to start this meeting?” she asks clearly above the last murmurs. As no-one objects, she raises a hand, putting it lightly on top of the oval table. It lights up a soft blue light, and she speaks the usual formulas: “I declare this Space Alliance’s meeting started. The Consulate has been assembled, and its members go as follow:” she takes a quick breath, straightening her back, “Princess Allura of New Altea, leader of the Space Alliance and Blue Paladin.”

Knowing his cue, Shiro steps forward, in between Lance and Allura’s seats to put his metal hand to the table. “Takashi Shirogane, from Earth, Knight of New Altea and Black Paladin.” He stands back once more and Lance straightens up, putting his left hand on the table. The light shifts briefly to white under his fingers. “Prince Lance of New Altea, Red Paladin.” Hunk follows, putting his heavy clawed hand on the table. “Hunk, from Balmera. Yellow Paladin.”

And so it goes, on and on around the table, everyone putting their hand on the bright surface and stating their names and titles. Records of these meetings are very important and so it has been decided to create this routine. Once all the consuls have been introduced, Allura speaks once more.

“The Consulate welcomes a guest to its table, to hear his plea.” She looks at Lotor, who nods softly and puts his own hand on the table. The light briefly shifts to pink under his fingers, before settling to white. “Prince Lotor of the Galra Empire.”

Allura nods, satisfied. “The Consulate will now hear you,” she concludes, looking at him, before taking her hand back from the table. Lotor nods, smiling at her. “Thank you,” he says, softly, before turning towards the consul on his left. He let his gaze go around everyone’s faces as he speaks loudly. “I know my presence here is a rare courtesy from you, members of the Consulate, and I know most of you do not trust nor believe that my intentions are what I said they were. So, allow me to state them again, clearly.”

His eyes stop on Lance’s face and the Altean stubbornly glares back, expression neutral. “I, Prince Lotor,” he continues, breaking the eye contact to face the whole table, “wish for the Garla Empire’s tyrannical reign to end. I wish for the freedom of the planets Zarkon has enslaved. And I wish for the Galra and New Altea to restore their past alliance and return the universe to its former glory of discovery, exchange and peace.”

This silence, once again. This heavy, crushing silence. Lotor puts his hands on the smooth surface of the table, taking a long breath before talking again. “Now, this is no easy task… and there are multiple obstacles to overcome to reach this goal.” His voice grows louder. “This is why I vow, before the Space Alliance, to do everything I can to reach these goals if you, members of the Consulate, would be so generous as to give me your assistance and to grant me a place at this table.”

All eyes are on Allura, now that Lotor has finished talking. She gives him no time to rest, immediately questioning him. “And what kind of assistance are you requesting from us?”

“As you might know, I am not the new leader of the Empire. Not yet, that is.” A soft murmur goes across the table, as the consuls bend low to speak at their neighbor’s ears or to their entourage. Lotor continues, unaffected. “In a few days will be held the Kral Zera, the ceremony by which the next Emperor will be chosen. All high-ranking generals of the Galra Empire will be there, competing for power. I need to be there, and I need Voltron to take me.”

This last bit caused an uproar. Gasps and alien curses flew around the room as Lance stood up, slamming his hands on the table. “What?!” Hunk grabs his arm and pulls him down firmly, throwing him a warning glare. “Calm down, Lance.” Lance turns to the other, yanking his arm out of his grip.

Allura raises a hand to bring back order to the assembly, but as the angry hubbub continues, she puts her hand down on the table. It’s pale blue light suddenly flares up, blinding, and every person present has to shield their eyes from it. Once the silence has returned, the light fades out, Allura’s stern face visible again.

“Order, please.” Her voice is soft, calm and people suddenly look ashamed of their emotivity. She slowly turns her head back toward the Galra. “Prince Lotor, would you please extrapolate?”

He nods, running a clawed hand through his white hair to pull them back from his face. “Most of the Empire’s strongest generals uphold ideals close to my late father’s. They want to rise to power to continue the Empire’s conquests and destructions. To gain respect and leverage amongst their sympathisers, they’ve started to attack members of the Alliance,” he shoots a quick glance to Pidge, saying this, and Lance feels his stomach burning again. “And they would not hesitate to destroy me, given the chance, before I even got to planet Feyiv for the ceremony.”

The table light turns white and everyone turns their head towards the consul who put their hand down on it. Allura gesture to them, giving them the right to speak. “So we are to provide you with protection to escort you to a massive Galra gathering? Pardon my words, princess, but this sounds downright deadly and I see nothing to gain from it.”

Lots of people nod in agreement, eyes shifting from the consul to Allura. Before she can say anything, Lotor put his hand to the table, answering.

“What I offer, is peace. What I offer is my commitment to this Alliance. Voltron bringing me to Feyiv will be a sign of change. If you help me to the Kral Zera, if you help me lead my people, I promise the end of the war that tears us apart.”

The table lights up white once more and all eyes are on Lance. Bent forward, clenched jaws, hand firmly pressed on the table, he doesn’t wait for Allura’s acknowledgment to attack.

“And we’re supposed to believe you?” he hisses, eyes burning, voice growing louder, “You think your word means anything to us? If there is one thing I know of the Galra, of Zarkon, it’s that a promise means nothing: for every stab to the heart, there are three more knives on our backs!”

Hunk bends towards his friend, voice low, a hand on his arm. “Okay, buddy, you need to calm down…” But his words are lost in Lance’s tirade.

“Zarkon always wanted Voltron, and you’re now asking us to bring it right to the Empire’s doors? To risk the Alliance’s resources to gain control over your people? With no guarantee from your part that you will hold your side of the bargain? Hah! I say let the Galra fight among themselves and we’ll take care of the rest.”

“Lance-“ Allura begins, threatening, but she is cut off by Lotor’s powerful voice.

“Yes, Zarkon’s way has been a treacherous one, but my word is all I have.” He is also bent forward over the table, as if to meet Lance, his smile finally gone from his face. “If you say that you’d rather let the war rage on instead of associating with me, then so be it! But if you’d listen to reason instead of basing your assumptions on misconceptions of my race, you’d see that my offer is a reasonable one.”

Lance jumps up, despite Hunk’s grip on his cape. Both his hands are slapped on the table now, his face flushed with anger. “Zarkon took everything from us!” His fist bangs the table. “From all of us! He destroyed whole worlds! And you expect us to believe you’re any different?”

He hadn’t even finished his words that Lotor was on his feet, fists clenched at his sides. “It is true that Zarkon gave me life. But I am the one who took his from him. And I did so because I believed his way was the wrong one and that we had to end this cycle of hate and pain!”

“Enough!” It’s Allura’s turn to get up, holding out her hands to either side of her. She looks furious, her eyes finding Lance’s. “Lance,” she says in a low, menacing voice, “if you’re unable to restrain yourself, I suggest you leave this room immediately. This is no way for a prince to act.”

Lance blanches, as if slapped. He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Glaring at Lotor, he straightens himself, clenching his fists, pondering his options. Defeated, but prideful, he sits back down, putting his hands on his chair’s arms, gripping them. Hunk pat sympathetically his shoulder.

Allura stares him down for a few ticks, then turns towards Lotor. “I apologize for his behavior,” she starts slowly, calmer, “but I would also advise against such disruptive conduct. You must wait for the right to speak before doing so, Prince Lotor. This is how this Consulate works.”

Lotor’s gaze was still locked with Lance’s as Allura was speaking, but he humbly lowers his head, turning to her. “My apologies, princess. I suppose my feelings got the best of me.”

“You are forgiven, Prince Lotor. Please, sit down.”

And with this, everyone is back in their seats, although Lance’s glare could melt the purple skin right off Lotor’s face – or so he’d wish.   

Allura takes a deep breath, looking all around the table. “Now,” she sighs, “I would like to hear everyone’s thoughts on the matter. But, please, think carefully and leave any unproductive comments unspoken.”

Not even two ticks went by before the table lit up again. If Lance’s eyes did not shift from Lotor when it happened, he quickly snapped his head to the side when he heard Pidge’s voice.

“I am here today instead of Ryner,” she states calmly, “so my opinion on the matter might not be the definite decision of Olkari, but I would like to state it nonetheless.”

Lance’s mouth is slightly opened, surprised. Pidge is usually the one to make rash comments under the stress of strong emotions, just as he had done. This much control from her suddenly puts him to shame, once again. Stars, how come he’s such a mess, lately?

“Olkari has been victim to a Galra general’s attack, some quintents ago. Luckily, no life was taken and we were able to quickly overcome the crisis. But Olkari is a privileged, well-established nation, and had the help of Voltron in time to save it. Not all planets do. What prince Lotor is offering is an opportunity we’ll never come across again. If we have to choose between the uncertainty of peace, or the certitude of war, I say we take the former.”

There was first a shocked silence, then excited murmurs. As Allura thanks Pidge for her input, and ask for other’s, Lance let himself lean on the back of the chair, looking down. Pidge… is smart. She analyzed this situation like she looks at a set of codes: calm, detached, logical. Once put in her words, the situation doesn’t seem as absurd as it first sounded to him.

He sighs, rubbing his forehead. He’s just a stupid guy who can’t see past his personal grudges. Not with the Galra. Or, at least, not with Lotor. Was he this way, when they first met with the Blade of Marmora? He doesn’t quite recall how he first acted with Keith. Of course, they fought a lot – they are both quite competitive – but has he ever been genuinely angry or hateful towards him…? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t remember.

Pidge’s intervention successfully diffused the tension. Consuls were now calmly stating their opinions or ideas on the matter, suggesting alternatives that might appease one or the other in the assembly. Lance listened absently, lost in thoughts, his unfocused eyes sometimes coming back to Lotor’s face. The galran prince never once looked back at him.

“We have heard everyone’s positions,” finally states Allura after a few vargas, “and I suggest we adjourn this meeting here, to let the minds rest, and make our final decision tomorrow.”

As nobody seems against it, she officiates the closing of the meeting, putting her hand on the table once more, the blue light fading away completely. As the servants offer to the consuls to take them to their rooms, Lance gets up, turning towards the exit immediately. Hunk follows him quickly.

“Hey, buddy,” he starts, but Lance stops him with a hand, not even turning back.

“I need to be alone, Hunk.”

He steps out of the room as Pidge catches up to Hunk, looking at him with concern.


	3. A ripple in space

Lance walks fast in the empty hallways of the castle. All the maids and butlers are occupied by the consuls and their entourage, making food, preparing rooms and helping out with specific demands; this leaves the rest of the castle barren of any sign of life. It is its usual state: despite the fair number of people employed at the royals’ estate, the huge castle is empty most of the time, echoes being the only thing filling its rooms when someone enters. Lance would normally flee the emptiness to find some people to meddle with, but he wants to use the short time before dinner to be by himself and gather his thoughts.

Lance exit the hallway, and then the castle through one of the back doors. The discreet door connects to a space-bridge, curving up above the ships’ top where it ends in a small glass dome; The Water gardens dome. Of all the paths connecting the Castle of Lions to the rest of New Altea, this is the only private one: the gardens are only accessible to those being granted permission to go through the castle.

It is filled with green clear water, along with it’s flora and aquatic life. A pathway, made from the same white metal the castle is made of, weaves intricate shapes on top of the water. Small ripples appear on the water’s surface due to the pathway diffusing the vibration of each steps walked upon it. Hidden deep in the liquid, some blue lights point up, throwing eerie shapes of waves on the glass dome. No other lights are found here: it is soft and dark, like a never-ending night. Some aquatic plants, indigenous to Altea, are found here: thick intricate bushes, big floating flowers, tall plants shooting out of the water, shivering from the aquatic life running through their roots.

Lance might be the Red Paladin now, but his element always has been water. This must be why he got along so well and so fast with Blue. On Altea, the Castle had a garden quite like this one. He used to go there a lot, to calm down and think, when he was younger and adjusting to the life of a prince…

He walks on the pathway, his quiet steps creating little waves on the surface of the water. He gradually slows down and finally stops in a hidden area, where the vegetation is thick and the water is still. He lifts a foot, grabbing the heel of his boot with a hand to pull it off his leg, then does the same to the other. He bends down to roll the thick black bodysuit up above his knees, then grabs the handrail to get down on the ground, putting his legs in the water, a pole between them.

Hands above his head still on the handrail, his face pressed to the pole, he gently swings his feet in the water, looking at the waves it creates. He’s… tired. This whole thing seems to have sapped his energy. He feels like he failed at his duties: he embarrassed himself and Allura by acting out like that in front of the whole Consulate. No wonder people still treat him like a child.

He sighs, rolling his ring around his finger by pushing it with the ball of his thumb. He had no right to lash out this way. He’s not the only one who suffered from the Galra’s rule. If Shiro stayed calm – he who lost whole years of his life, sweat, blood and limbs taken from him – how can he justify he didn’t? If this deal will really end the fight, then…

He closes his eyes. The Galra being here, it just brings back so many bad memories… He’s been feeling uneasy about this since the moment Allura told him of Lotor’s call for peace. He’s been restless, unable to sleep correctly, training more than usual in between those stupid etiquette classes. Quick and blurry images kept popping up in his mind every time he’d let his thoughts wander. He can still see them, in the darkness behind his closed eyelids.

Pink flashes of light. Systems on high alert. Galra sentries. Blood and bruises. Flames in the void of space. And screams, never-ending screams, a woman screaming his name-

Lance opens his eyes with a shuddering breath. His face is covered in a cold sweat and he brings an arm down to wipe it off on his cape. He rubs his eyes with a sigh. “Snap out of it, Lance…” he mumbles to himself, letting his hands fall on his thighs as he looks at the dark shape of an aquatic creature slithering by his leg.

He’s been unreasonable. Lotor has a point: Lance truly has been bigoted, blinded by his hatred and disgust of Zarkon. Feelings he is now channeling towards Lotor, as their initial target seems to have disappeared. And yes, Lotor seems to be kind of a prick, but… it wasn’t uncalled for; Lance has been a petty dumbass first. As much as he hates it, right now, he should give the galran prince a chance… He seemed pretty passionate about his plan to restore peace to the universe. Maybe he’s sincere. (Maybe.) Lance sighs: he should try to actually speak with him next time they meet. And a formal apology seems in order.

He hears the faint sound of footsteps entering the garden. It must be either Allura or Shiro. Or Hunk. Either way, he’s in for an earful: he acted like a jerk. Not princely at all. His emotions got the best of him when he should have focused and kept them in check.

He prepares himself as the steps comes closer; he slides back to get his feet out of the water and grabs the handrail to get up, careful not to slip on the slick surface of the pathway. He’s writing up the perfect apology in his head, including his new resolutions in it, looking in the water, using all the time he has before the steps gets to his little hidden spot on the pathway.

He breathes in slowly when the footsteps finally settle on his left, gathering the courage to spin and express his regrets to whoever has come. Judging by the heavy steps, it must be either Shiro or Hunk. Time to face them! Lance turns around, but immediately freezes up, his eyes widening in surprise.

Lotor raises his hands in a calming motion. “Please, do not worry,” he starts, seeming concerned, “I only wish to speak with you.”

“What are you doing here?!” Lance spat out the words, his brand-new resolutions already gone from his mind, as if they had been sucked out in the vacuum of space. A barely-tamed panic settles in, making his heart pounds his chest. He really wasn’t prepared to be left alone with the prince of the Galra Empire.

Lotor, on the other hand, seems to keep his cool pretty well. “Your friends told me I could find you in the gardens.”

“They certainly are no longer friends of mine…” Lance hisses under his breath, feeling Lotor’s words burn his heart with the brand of betrayals. “What do you want?”

“To talk, as I said,” continues Lotor, taking a small step towards him, but stopping as he sees Lance recoil. “Your sister told me you might be more open to discussion if we were out of sight.”

Lance raises an eyebrow, confused, but quickly dispel his puzzled expression with a frown. The way Lotor speaks to him – so low, so calm – rubs Lance the wrong way: what is he, a small animal to be tamed? Why does it always feel like he’s looking down on him? What does he even want to talk about, out of the Consulate’s sight? Lance raises a hand, waving it impatiently in front of him. “Go on, then, get to it!”  

“I would like to apologize.”

“Oh.” Lance moves slightly backward, surprised, and his hand falls back down to his side. All his annoyed thoughts seem to come to a sudden stop and his brain needs a minute to reboot. Lotor doesn’t seem to notice, as he continues earnestly. “I acted terribly. I accused you of bigotry and pushed you around in front of the Consulate. I understand that the Empire’s past is a heavy one and will cast a shadow on all of my actions and I should have prepared better to face… reactions such as yours.” He breathes in, flicking a white strand of hair out of his sight. “I shouldn’t have fought your fire with mine, is what I want to say. I sincerely hope you’ll forgive my rudeness.”

Lance blinks as he watches the galran prince bow down slightly, putting a closed fist to his chest as a Galra would towards their superior. As Lotor doesn’t seem like he’ll straighten again until he says something, Lance stammers to find his words, feeling awkward.

“You- you are- I- this, this is- would you stand up? Please?” He stepped closer to the other while speaking, almost wanting to reach out and push Lotor up by the shoulders, but he manages to contain himself. Lotor raises a curious face towards him, slowly rising up and Lance hides his own in his hands, muttering a relieved “Stars be praised” under his breath. He takes a few ticks to breathe in, putting his thoughts in order, then trust his hands forward, his elbows bent at a 90 degrees angle.

“Look,” he says loudly, looking at the ground to avoid Lotor’s yellow eyes, “you shouldn’t have to apologize. I’ve been the jerk, alright. I’m the one who should… who should…” He lets a silence settle in, then groans, folding his arms tightly on his chest. “Stars! Why did you have to come to me NOW? You should have let me gather my wits first.” The words had just left his mouth that he suddenly realized he’s doing reproaches to the person who just apologized to him and he pinches the bridge of his nose, discouraged. This is hard. He’s not really mad, right now. In reality, he’s just pissed that he didn’t get the opportunity to apologize first. He wanted to look like a great, humble man, who is able to acknowledge his mistakes, take the blames and reach out again to the person he’s wronged. Now he just looks like a fool. Again. He finally looks up at Lotor’s face. He seems to be confused and somewhat annoyed. Great.

Lance sighs. “I… apologize. Too. Also. I’m also apologizing.” So much for his etiquette classes: he’s barely able to align a sentence correctly. “It was… wrong of me to rebuke you that way.” He cocks his head to the side, imitating Allura’s voice: “’Everyone’s got a voice in the Consulate’ and all that…” Wow, he sucks at this. Lotor looks at him, silent, as some ticks go by. Lance feels an awkward blush creeping up his neck, but before his face could turn fully red, Lotor speaks again.

“I understand. I accept your apology.” Well he’ll be damned: it worked. He looks at Lotor with big blue eyes, surprised, but then narrows them, cautious. This seems too easy, somehow.

Without a pause, Lotor puts his hand behind his back, picking up a formal sort of tone as he continues. “I also had another matter I wanted to discuss with you. Namely, my proposition and tomorrow’s meeting.”

Lance narrows his eyes even more. “Yeeees…?” This feels weird. Lotor takes a step forward, his speech more rapid now. “Princess Allura made it very clear that no propositions can be endorsed by the Space Alliance without a poll and an unanimous result. As such, a vote will certainly take place on tomorrow’s session.”

Lance stiffly nods, not sure how he is supposed to answer to this factoid. Lotor tilt his head to the side, his gaze going around the surrounding vegetation before landing on Lance again. “I hope for you and me to leave tonight’s debacle behind us, so that we can look at the Consulate’s plan with a clear mind,” he stares into Lance’s eyes, a solemn look into his “and vote accordingly.”

Lance feels his body stiffens as he glares at Lotor’s face. “Wait.” He frowns, staring, the cogs of his mind working hard on the spoken and unspoken elements here. “Wait, wait, wait,” he takes some steps back, raising his hands. “Did you come here, apologizing and all, because you thought I’d somehow quiznak up the vote over that… squabble?” He looks at the Galra in utter disbelief. Lotor raises his eyebrows.

“No,” he starts, too quickly. He seems to realize how dubious this sounded, because he quickly adds more “Well, no…” He seems to hesitate: it’s really the first time he does so. “It’s only that… you have a strong influence over the Consulate,” he finally says, “I wouldn’t want our skirmish to-“

“Wow,” interrupts Lance, taking a few steps backward. He turns his back to Lotor, running a hand through his silver hair, before turning back towards him once more, jaws clenched again. His eyes are burning. He feels like a fool to have been touched by Lotor’s earlier apologies. He walks up to the galran prince, chin fiercely turned up to stare him in the eyes. “I’ll consider the proposition carefully, tomorrow, without being held back by my feelings towards you.” His words are precise, emphasized. “Not because you asked it of me, but because I care for the people living in this universe of ours. I will follow any path that seems to be the right one for them. No matter who I have to walk it with.” He insisted on the last words.

Lotor blinks, seemingly at a loss for words. Any other time, Lance would have gloated about this – who is he kidding? He is gloating, deep deep inside, but the anger is what’s still on the surface. He bends down to take his boots, turning one last time towards the galran prince. “Despite how much of a brat I may seem to you,” he begins, a chill in his voice, “I’m actually able to separate my personal desires and my duties when it matters.” He doesn’t give time for a reply, muttering as he tries to walk past Lotor on the pathway: “Dinner must start soon, you should get going.”

“Wait.” Lotor grabs Lance’s arm, his purple hand seeming huge over his gold bracelet. Lance spins around, trying to yank his arm out of his grip, anger flaring up. “Let go-!”

His words die on his lips as the air goes still, Lotor’s and his eyes looking down at the dark blade pressed against the Galra’s throat. A glowing glyph on it’s handle, a shine on it’s edge, it is held firmly by a big gloved hand, a dark hooded mask visible behind Lotor’s shoulder. For once, Lance is first to react.

“Keith, stop it!” he shouts, looking angrily at the purple slits on the mask of the newcomer. Lotor exhale slowly, an annoyed expression showing on his face. “Ah,” he says flatly. “I thought the Blade of Marmora wasn’t coming tonight. Seems like I was misinformed.”

“Let go of the prince,” answers a surprisingly youthful voice, “now.” Lotor smirks and suddenly releases his grip on Lance’s arm while looking at the masked man. Lance brings his arm back, but immediately steps forward.

“Keith, you’re overstepping. Stop this right now.”  The masked galra does not move an inch – that thick son of a- – and Lance is ready to grab the blade by hand if he has to, but it does not come to that in the end: after a few ticks, the hand pulls back slowly and the blade is swiftly put back in its sheath.

Lotor glares coldly at the newcomer, stepping to the side. “I thought weapons were not allowed inside the castle.” Lance glares at Keith, as if saying “See the mess you’re putting me in?!” then turns his head towards Lotor. “They are not. I’m really sorry about this, I- “

“He had an hostile behavior, I acted as I should,” interrupts Keith, folding his arms in front of him. Lance shoots him an angry glare and Keith turns his head to the side, stubborn. Lance sighs, turning back to Lotor to try and explain the situation in a way that will be both apologetic and diplomatic, but finds himself staring at the Galra’s back; Lotor is walking away on the white pathway.

“Lo- Prince Lotor, where are you going?” he calls after him, kind of panicky: what if this situation escalates in some sort of murder attempt story and ruins the parlay?

“To dinner,” answers the cold voice, without even a glance, “as you should too.”

Lance looks at the tall silhouette disappearing at a corner behind some vine-like plants, mouth agape and shoulders dropped. He lets himself crumple forward, whining. “Keiiiiiiith, why did you do thaaaaat...”

He turns puppy eyes to the impassible mask. Keith huffs, arms still folded, offering no answers. “Allura is going to kill me!” Lance whines more, dragging his feet towards Keith to grab his shoulders and shake him. “All because you went ahead and did something stupid!”

“Stop that.” Keith smacks his arms away before pulling his hood back, clicking the button that removes his mask. Deep purple fur, big ears and bright yellow eyes do nothing to soften the sullen expression on the boy’s face. “He should have kept his hand to himself.”

“Yes, he should, but that doesn’t give you the right to put a BLADE to his throat!” Lance raises his eyebrows and underline his words with big hand movements. This has often been an issue, between Keith and him: as Shiro became Allura’s official knight, the galran boy took upon himself to be Lance’s unofficial bodyguard. This is quite annoying, frankly: Lance can take care of himself! He doesn’t need additional protection!

As he sees his word have no effect on Keith, Lance gives up and sighs. He usually would have pestered him longer, but he just can’t muster the will to do it right now: despite all the trouble he probably put him in with Lotor, Lance would lie if he said he wasn’t relieved that his friend appeared. If Lance can hold up under a lot of pressure, he certainly ends up crumbling after a while. He looks up at Keith. “Since when have you been here, anyway? Is Kolivan in New Altea too?”

“We arrived just a few dobashes ago,” Keith confirms while nodding slowly, “Kolivan is certainly with Allura now. Pidge and Hunk told me I’d find you here.”

“Seems like that’s what they do, tonight.” Lance put his free hand on his hip, slightly frowning. “How come you haven’t kept in touch with us? Allura tried contacting you multiple times.”

Keith shrugs, dismissive, but the way he turns his head to the side to avoid looking at Lance shows he’s being defensive. “We’ve been busy. We’re here now, so it doesn’t matter.” Lance shakes his head and bends down to put his boots back on. “It DOES matter. Rogue generals are attacking left and right, we need to know where our allies are at!”

“We were in the next quadrant over, dealing with a galran fleet. It’s past now and we’re here, don’t worry about it.” Keith looks at him pulling his boots on, seeming quite bored about it. “What were you fighting about?”

“Urgh,” groans Lance, straightening himself. “Politics.”

“Politics? You’re too dumb for politics, what were you actually fighting about?”

“Hey!” Lance is offended. He puts a hand to his chest to underline his indignant retort. “I’m not dumb! I don’t get involved in politics because I hate it, okay.”

Keith raise an eyebrow, not convinced by Lance’s rhetoric. Lance throws his hands in the air. “It’s true! It’s boring, people are always fighting, and they forget about basic decency and start acting like everything and everyone is just a random piece in the big machination of their perfect plan!” He takes a long breath in, distractedly fixing his hair with one hand. “I just… I hate when people takes decisions without considering everyone affected by it.”

Keith is silent, considering his friend, then sighs, unfolding his arms to scratch his cheek. “Yeah, well… it’s a hard thing to do.” Lance looks at him, then rolls his eyes. It’s not the kind of answer he likes to hear. He knows they have to try and make the best decision for everybody – Allura is going a great job, leading the Alliance the best she can and Lance is the first one to recognise how much efforts she puts into each decision – but it’s impossible to know what everyone need, isn’t it? He takes a step towards the exit, gesturing to Keith. “Come on, let’s go to dinner.”

Keith doesn’t follow him. “I’m not staying,” he says. “Kolivan and I are leaving as soon as he’s done speaking with Allura.” Lance blinks, spinning towards him. “What? Why? You just got here!” Keith shakes his head. “We’re going on a mission. I can’t tell you any more than this.”

“What kind of mission?” Lance frowns. “Zarkon is dead, the Alliance is on a standstill until further notice.”

“Well, the Blade of Marmora is not.” Keith puts his hands on his hips, defensive once more. “And even if Zarkon is no longer, the Galra Empire is still moving.” Lance walks to Keith, a stern tone – much like Allura’s – in his voice. “The Space Alliance is looking at Lotor’s proposition right now, we do not have any offensive plans.”

“About Lotor’s proposition,” Keith steps forward, ignoring Lance’s last input. “I heard from Pidge. Don’t do it.”

“What?” Lance blinks, unable to hide his confusion. “Don’t bring him to the Kral Zera,” continues Keith. Lance frowns, then shrugs. “I’ll see tomorrow if it’s a reasonable-“

“Don’t.” Keith voice is harsh. He pulls his hood back up. “Make the Consulate back out of it.” His mask appears again, purple slits shining in the dim dome. “What, why?!” Lance is getting irritated again, a new worry twisting his guts. “What is it you’re not telling me?”

“That’s all I had to say.” Keith pass Lance swiftly, walking towards the exit. Lance follows immediately. “Nuh-huh, you can’t just throw some cryptic warnings at me then walk out! Tell me what’s going on, Keith.”

They go through the door, entering the hallway connecting back to the castle. Their voices and their steps echoes through the tunnel as Lance pester Keith with questions. “Is Lotor here to trick us? Is there a fleet on its way? Is the Kral Zera a trap?”

Keith speaks quickly, in a low voice, without stopping. “I don’t know Lotor’s intentions and I don’t really care about what he does. Just listen to me. I wasn’t even supposed to see you, Kolivan told me to wait for him by the docks.”

“Then why-“Lance insists, but a powerful voice interrupts him, coming from the Castle’s door.

“Ah, my Prince, there you are! You shan’t be late for dinner; its bad manners, you know,” shouts Coran, curling his mustache with a finger. “Oh, hello! Is that Keith?” Coran doesn’t get an answer, Keith sliding past him in the doorway, getting away from a most irritated Lance.

“Keith, wait!” He tries to catch up to him, but Coran holds him back. “Tut tut tut, my Prince. This isn’t playtime. No buts! Whatever matter you have to settle with master Keith will have to be done over comcast.” Lance looks at him, lips tightly shut over his unjustified diatribe, then glances back in the hallway, but Keith is gone. “Ah, quiznak-“

“Watch your language,” warns Coran, a fatherly look on his face. He pushes him gingerly towards the dinner hall. “Now, let’s review the cutlery’s protocol.”  

Lance sighs, defeated, and glances one last time towards the direction Keith disappeared. So much for a visit: they haven’t seen each other in quintents! But he’s already out the door and no idea when he’ll be coming back. What is the Blade of Marmora doing anyway? They should be staying for tomorrow’s meeting, let their thoughts on the matter be known, instead of Keith half-assing it by telling him to stop the deal. He should tell the Space Alliance that himself!

Lance answers half-mindedly to Coran’s quizzes as their approach the dinning hall. He wanted to spend time by himself to gather his thoughts and all he got was frustrating and confusing dialogs with two annoyingly stubborn Galras.

The sight of the consuls in the dining room creates a knot in his stomach: what is he supposed to do about tomorrow’s meeting? On one side, Prince Lotor is expecting him to listen to his plea and agree to his proposition. On the other, Keith is ordering him to shut this project down without even giving him a reason to do so. For all the affection he has for Keith, he his, without a doubt, the person who irritates him the most in this world.

He glances at the purple silhouettes on the other side of the room: Lotor and his two generals. Has Lotor told them? About Keith’s threat? Did he tell Allura? This is another problem he’ll have to deal with…

Surely, he won’t get much sleep tonight either.


	4. Of duties and memories

The yawn that Lance lets out echoes down the hallway in full power as he stretches. His steps are muffled by his blue lion slippers and he folds his arms around his gown to retain his heat. He was sleeping very well, for once, but Coran had to come and drag him out of bed way too early. Allura wants to have breakfast with him – which is great – but he went to bed very late and he would have taken every vargas in before the second meeting of the Consulate if he could have.

He slows up and turns towards the doors leading to Allura’s room, putting a hand to the slightly ajar door, but stops before entering. Inside, sitting at her breakfast table in her pink gown, Allura has her face turned up towards Shiro, her chin held up by one of his hands as he leans in to kiss her. Lance steps back to be out of view and give them some privacy. He scratches his head, looking around to make sure nobody is there – or, more accurately, to be sure that Coran isn’t there: who else would be by the Royals’ chambers at this time of day? Lance stares at his feet, his hands stuffed in his gown’s pockets, waiting for a sign that the intimate moment is over and he can come in.

Although Allura and Shiro’s relationship is technically a secret, everybody knows about it. They just all collectively pretend not to notice so that they won’t be embarrassed to stand near each other in public. The way they move around each other, their smiles, the slightest touch they exchange: it started a while before Shiro’s knighting. This relationship is another reason why this altean title being granted to a human was taken so well by the public: New Altea’s residents just want their princess to be happy.

Lance was distractedly playing with his ring when Allura’s voice comes muffled through the door and he raises his head. That’s his cue! He pushes the door while stretching and yawning exaggeratedly, eyes closed to give time to Allura and Shiro to react to his arrival. As he expected, when he opens his eyes, Shiro is a few steps away, fiddling with the lights, while Allura is smiling at him, slightly flushed.

“Good morning,” she says, picking up her silverware. “Mornin’” mumbles Lance, pulling a chair. Shiro comes closer, smiling. “Morning.” Lance nods to him, crossing his arms on the table. Shiro looks at Allura, bowing slightly. “I’ll take my leave, now, princess.” She nods, smiling and he leaves the room quietly. Lance let his eyes follow him as he goes, then ask, with the most innocent tone he could muster: “What was Shiro doing here so early?”

“Huh? Oh, huh, just… some things. Things to prepare for, huh…” Allura blushes deeply, cutting rapidly her food into little pieces. She clears her throat, trying to regain her cool. “It is not very important; did you sleep well?”

Lance has a little smile, but doesn’t insist. “Until Coran woke me up, yes.” He stretches a hand to grab a drink. Allura laughs, taking daintily a piece of her meal. “You’ll have to forgive him : he did so at my request,” she says, taking a bite. Lance pours himself a drink, shrugging. “He would have done it anyway.”

Coran has been waking him up for years. On some rare occasion he let him sleep in, but he has this annoying habit of barging into his room every morning. Lance actually wonders when does Coran sleep: he’s still awake when he goes to bed and already up when he wakes. He takes a sip of his beverage, glancing at a square of light on the wall: it imitates a window with soft sunlight coming in. He misses the sun. He used to have a dark golden tan, but now even his night masks have a hard time to restore his skin’s luster. He notices Allura looking at him, silent. Lance looks at her, putting his glass down. “…what?”

She breathes in, speaks softly. “We didn’t get a chance to talk alone since yesterday.” Lance throws a glance at the door, feeling Shiro’s absence like a menace, then back at Allura. “If it’s about my attitude during the Consulate’s meeting,” he starts, putting his hands on his thighs, “I am sorry.”

Allura smiles. “Thank you. I know you didn’t mean to act this way, but I am still happy of the apology.” She puts her silverware down, shaking her head softly. “No, I wanted to talk about what happened in the Water gardens.”

“Oh.” Lance sighs, slouching in his chair. He rests his chin on his fist, his elbow on the arm of the chair. “So Lotor came to you, huh? How mad is he?” Allura shakes her head. “Keith told me.” Lance frowns, confused, letting his hand fall down. “What? When?”

“Just before they left, when he came to get Kolivan.”

Lance blinks, putting his hands on the arms of his chair. “Right, about that… what did you discuss with Kolivan? Was it about what the Blade is doing?”

Allura cocks her head to the side, frowning slightly. ”Lance, don’t change the subject. Is it true Lotor threatened you?”

“No!” Lance straightens himself, hands suddenly on the table, shocked and looking slightly guilty. “Keith exaggerates, it wasn’t like that.” Allura looks at him, silent, a puzzled expression on her face. “Then ‘how’ was it?”

Lance looks at the ceiling, trying to find the right words to explain the whole situation. Go simple. “He was just trying to keep me from leaving, is all.”

“You were fighting again?” Lance is always surprised at her ability to read his mind. He didn’t even need to look at her with an apologetic look to confirm her hunch: she was already making a discouraged face, folding her arms on the table.

“You say that as if we’re kids,” tries to plead Lance. “We’ve been ARGUING again. Like adults. Angry ones,” he corrects, trying to build his pride back. Allura smirks, putting her chin in her hands. “Right. What did he do to make you, an adult, angry again?” Lance sighs, putting his elbows on the table. “Honestly? Not much. I was just still angry from the Consulate meeting.”

“That much?” She raises an eyebrow, slightly concerned. “I need time to calm down, you know that,” chides Lance. “Hmm, not that much. You’re quick to anger, but you’re usually even quicker to calm down.” He shrugs. “Well, not last night.”

“You seem much calmer now, though,” remarks Allura. “I am,” confirms Lance, a small smile on his lips. “I took a lot of time to think, after dinner.”

“Nunvil helped?” Allura cocks her head to the side with a knowing expression while Lance groans, putting his forehead on his arms. “I didn’t drink that much,” he mumbles, already blushing.

“You drank a lot.”

“Did I do something embarrassing?”

“Nothing unusual, at least.” She smiles, amused. Lance pouts, raising his head to look at her but he’s actually very happy about this casual talk. Allura has been very stressed lately – maybe even more than him – so it’s good to see her smile and behave so casually. “You’re just trying to embarrass me,” he whines. Allura shakes her head. “No, no I assure you. You sang me a song.”

“Did not.”

“And you danced with the Taujeer Consul.”

“Okay, you’re definitely making this up. Taujeerians don’t dance.”

“That’s what you said, before grabbing the Consul and announcing you’d make history.”

“Okay, IF I did that, I would definitely say something like that. But I didn’t.”

A smile cracks Allura’s straight face and Lance throws himself back in his chair: “Oh praise the stars!” Allura giggles, eyes alight. “You believed it for a tick.” Lance smiles. “Only a tick.” They both stare at each other before bursting into laughter. The kind of laugh that just feels like a weight is lifted and brings your spirits high. They needed this. Allura sighs softly, looking at Lance with a smile. “…I’m glad to see you’re alright.” Lance shakes his head, shrugging slightly. “I’m okay, don’t worry about me.” Allura already has enough on her mind : he’d hate for him to be another weight on her shoulders.

“It’s just that you’ve seemed… distant, these last quintents.” Allura looks at her food, picking up her cutlery slowly. “You didn’t even tell me about the Water gardens incident. I just… You know you can talk to me, right?” She throws him a look, earnest and… somehow a little sad. Lance smiles. “It was nothing, I didn’t want to distract you with unimportant stuff. And, lately, well… I was upset. And I just focused on the things that made me upset. But that’s just my usual dumb self acting out.” Lance takes his spoon, clearing his throat. “Anyway… I won’t be a problem anymore.” He looks up at Allura. “As I was saying, I thought a lot and, well… I was mad at Lotor for things I can’t really blame him for. I was angry about his coming here and his attitude. I got mad that he’d bring up Voltron in all this, even though Voltron has always been at the center of the war. And I was very offended he’d doubt my motives.” He rolls his eyes, still looking quite displeased: he cannot hide the fact that he is still upset about that, but at least he’s trying. “But then I realized: he knows nothing about me. For all he knows I’m still the enemy.” He takes a spoonful of green goo in a bowl placed in front of him. “I think of us as the ‘Good Guys’ and of the Galra as the ‘Bad Ones’, but… to him we can’t be just ‘Good Guys’. We’re an enemy: we’ve been enemies for decapheebs!” He stuffs the spoon in his mouth before shrugging. “It just means the way he’s acting is normal in his situation. Can’t expect him to trust us right off the bat,” he concludes, finally eating. “Doesn’t mean I like it, though,” he mumbles between two bites.

Allura listened to him patiently – she’s always been a good listener – then takes silently a few bites of her own meal. “This reminds me of when you first arrived at the Castle.” She spoke softly, looking down at her plate. Lance raises his head, staring at Allura. “You were behaving quite the same way.” She adds carefully, looking back at him.

He swallows his bite and speaks slowly. “What do you mean?” She breathes in, her eyes wandering about the room as she chooses her words. “You were… stiff. Afraid to be inadequate or for your behavior to be misinterpreted. You were short-tempered, and doubtful, and were always on your guard with others.” She turns her blue eyes back on Lance. “I think you saw no ally in the people around you. Just like Prince Lotor, here.”

Lance is silent, contemplative, but then suddenly puts his spoon down. “You’re right.” Allura raises a hand. “I know you don’t lik- wait, what?” She blinks rapidly: she was obviously ready to face a lively rebuttal. 

“You’re right,” repeats Lance, waving a dismissive hand at her surprise. “It’s quite the same, isn’t it.” He puts a hand over his mouth, rubbing a distracted finger on his cheek markings as he thinks deeply. Allura doesn’t talk, not wishing to interrupt him, but also is quite too stunned to think of anything to say.

If there is one thing she knows Lance hates, it’s to be compared to others. She knows he thinks lowly of himself – unjustly so – and he would usually kick and pout at any comparison brought up in a conversation – especially if it’s about Keith. She had thought that linking him to the Galra Prince would make him angry, but… he’s been silent for a while now. His blue eyes are glazed over, looking at a faraway scene lost to time. She reaches over the table and put softly her hand over his. He blinks, coming back to reality, staring at her.

“Don’t wander too far from me, now,” she says, smiling warmly to him. He turns his hand around, squeezing hers lovingly, and smiles. “I gotta go.” He lets go of her hand to grab his spoon and shovel up food in his mouth, quickly, in a posture more akin to animals than to royalty.

Allura raises her eyebrows, blinking. “What? So suddenly? Where to?”

“Ha got – go find – Pidf an Uk.”

“Lance, I can’t understand a thing you say.”

Lance swallows a big bite with difficulty, before repeating himself. “I gotta go find Pidge and Hunk!” He takes a last bite then jumps to his feet. “Shiro is in his quarters, right?” Allura pushes her chair back, but Lance is by her side before she can get up. “I’d assume so, but, what is going on?” Lance smiles, bending towards her. “I just know what I’ve got to do!” He takes her face in his hands to put a kiss on her forehead before turning his heels and walking towards the door with an energetic step.

“All this time,” he says loudly, reaching the door, “I’ve been whining about the situation, but now I’m going to do something about it.” He smiles, turning towards Allura. “See you at the meeting!” And with a wink, he’s gone, a new purpose filling him with determination, pushing aside all thoughts and questions about Kolivan and the Blade.

In all honesty, Allura was worried. Lance seemed in a good mood when he left her chambers, but not knowing what he had in mind had her nervous. Even Coran, when he came to meet her later, said he hadn’t seen Lance since he woke him up. (He did, however, see Hunk, who was very enthusiastic about helping out in the kitchens.) And so, she spent the few vargas left before the meeting looking over her shoulder for a sign of the boy’s silver hair while dealing absently with some Consuls.

She got hopeful, some dobashes before the meeting, but the hair she got a glimpse of were merely Lotor’s as he walked towards her. She did her best to look calm as he bowed his head to her. “Princess Allura,” he says, as a greeting. “Prince Lotor,” she says, imitating him. “I hope you and your entourage found the rooms to your liking.” She glances at the two imposing galran generals standing behind Lotor: one a woman with fluffy ears, the other a man with sharp teeth, both bearing an impassible expression as they stand next to their leader.

“Very comfortable,” agrees Lotor, a charming smile on his lips, “we rested plenty.” His gaze goes around the hallway as he speaks slowly. “Prince Lance isn’t at your side?”

“He had other matters to attend to before the meeting,” she replies quickly. “Did you want something from him?” Lotor shakes his head, still smiling. “Nothing of the sort, princess, I was merely wondering if he felt ill due to that nunvil at dinner.”

Allura can’t keep herself from smiling, relieved by the confirmation that Lotor hadn’t seen Lance this morning and amused by Lotor’s remark. “He’s quite young,” she says, “he can get back on his feet quickly.”

Lotor has a little smile. “How lucky.” He straightens his back, offering his arm to Allura. “Shall we go to meet the Consulate together?” She hesitates briefly before taking the offered arm, smiling warmly. “Yes, we shall.” She glances at Coran, who’s telling yet another story about his grandfather to an Arusian guest and he stops midsentence to come back to her side when his eyes meet hers. It’s not that she doesn’t feel safe: it’s that she knows Shiro would feel uneasy if he knew her alone with three Galra.

It’s when she stepped into the meeting room with Prince Lotor that she finally saw Lance again: up behind his chair, speaking with Shiro, Hunk and Pidge. She was relieved to see him, yet frustrated that she did not have the time to ask him what he was scheming: the Consulate was almost all assembled and Lotor was in earshot.

Lotor let go of her arm politely and nod curtly towards Lance. He sits down without attempting to talk to him, turning towards the galran woman instead.

Probably noticing Allura’s nervousness, Shiro steps closer to her and give a calm nod to signal that everything is okay. She bites her lip, turning her head towards the trio. Pidge and Hunk both seem pretty lively too… Nothing bad will come out of this, right? Taking a deep breath in, Allura raises her hands, gazing at the assembly.

“Please, everyone take their seat. We shall resume last session’s and deal with the matter at hand.”

A quiet hubbub is heard as everyone sits down in their seats, their entourage standing behind them. Pidge and Hunk exchange quick words with Lance before taking their seats themselves. Lance rolls his shoulders to bring his heavy cape back – Allura is happy he remembered to change and didn’t show up in night robe and lion slippers – and finally sits down.

The Consulate is ready. Allura breathes in slowly to calm her nerves, then put her hand down on the table to announce the beginning of the meeting. As it did the night prior, the table’s surface lights up and every consul and paladins introduce themselves one after another.

“Thank you all. We are gathered again to make a decision about Prince Lotor’s plea,” Allura reminds the crowd. “I propose a preliminary vote. If it is unanimous, it will be considered final and close the session. If it isn’t, parlays will follow and another vote will be held. Is anyone opposed to this method?” As no one protest, Allura slides a finger on the table, three counters appearing on its surface. “The statement we are voting on goes as follows : Will the Space Alliance grant the title of consul to Prince Lotor and allow Voltron to escort him to the Kral Zera? First, those against this motion, please put your hands to the table now.”

With a chill going up her back, Allura notices that most of the consuls put their hands on the table. Some had seemed swayed by Pidge’s words at the last meeting, but it looks like the night has drawn their thoughts towards rejection. She lets her gaze go around the table, and feels her heart skip a beat when she notices that none of the Paladins has put their hands on the table. Even Lance! He’s leaning back in his chair, looking serious, holding his hands on his knee.

What is going on? The table displays the number of votes and she straightens herself. The hope in her voice is barely restrained as she speaks again. “Those who are in favor of the motion, please put your hands on the table now.”

She puts her own down on the table, heart racing, and feels more than she hears the soft gasps as Lance leans forward and press his own hand on the table’s luminescent surface. Pidge and Hunk both follow and Shiro steps forward to do so too. Few consuls put their hands to the table, and the total number is quite lower than those against, but… Allura is happy. Obviously, the thing Lance has in mind is positive.

She asks for those who abstain – only two of them do so – before swiping a finger on the table again to make the numbers shrink to the table’s edge. “Now,” she says, “as the votes are divided, let’s proceed into parlays. Who would like t- Yes, Pidge?”

“I would like to correct my previous statement,” begins quickly the olkari teen. “I have talked with Ryner and I can now confirm that my decisions are official and reflect the true desires of Olkari.” Pidge talked quickly, reciting this sentence like someone reading a text.

Allura nods slowly. “We all acknowledge that change.” Pidge smiles and lean back in her chair. Before Allura can open her mouth again, her gaze is taken by Shiro’s silhouette stepping closer to the table to her right. He bows down slightly, putting his hand to the table. “If I may, princess,” he asks, smiling, “I would like to make a proposition, as Voltron’s leader.”

It is then that it dawns on Allura: the whole team is onto something. Whatever Lance had in mind, all Team Voltron agreed to it. She blinks, lips slightly parted and nods, giving her permission. Shiro thanks her, then look at the Consulate.

“I know that a lot of you are hesitant to agree to this proposition, and I understand why you’d think so. Sending Voltron right to the Empire’s forces seems like a bad decision. This is why I have a proposition that may bring you peace of mind.”

As always, Shiro’s voice commands respect and people straighten in their chairs, listening intently. “I suggest we grant Prince Lotor the protection of one Lion. It should suffice for his defense, fast travel and offensive action if need be.”

This causes quite a stir in the room, the consuls turning to their entourage and each other, talking rapidly in a cacophony of alien languages.

The table lights up, bringing everyone’s attention towards Lotor. He is, this time, waiting for Allura’s consent before talking. “Interesting,” he says. “May I inquire which Lion would be assigned to the task?”

“The Red Lion.”

Some very audible gasp are heard, luckily masking Allura’s. Shiro’s gaze do not turn from Lotor’s, but the galran prince quickly glances towards Lance’s seat, above which the red lion’s banner is hung. “And why is that?” continues Lotor. Shiro straightens himself, holding his hands behind his back to address Lotor’s question as if answering to the whole room.

“You need a lion that is able to withstand attacks and return the favor as well. The Green Lion is discreet but lacks in power and sturdiness, making it an ill fit for such a mission. The Yellow Lion is able to take on strong attacks-“

“Even tho it doesn’t like it,” mumbles Hunk from his seat.

“-but lacks in speed and would not be able to escape a Galra fleet on its own, making it more of a danger than a defender. About the Black Lion: it has been coveted by the Empire for a long time, and it is of our understanding that it would be a bad idea to send it in a risky area under Galra control. The Blue Lion would be a suitable choice, but as its paladin is Princess Allura, we cannot allow the leader of the Space Alliance to be taken, would an incident happen.” Shiro looks at Allura as he says that, but turns his attention back to Lotor to finish the reasoning. “The Red Lion has the quickest reflexes and a good equilibrium of strength and defense. Hence our choice.”

The hubbub is still going, constant throughout Shiro’s tirade. Allura brings her hand to the table, waiting for the whispers to quiet down before turning her head towards Lance.

“Are you really alright with this, Lance?”

He smiles at her, nodding. “I am.”

A shocked silence follows. Lance is truly the last person the Consulate would have expected to agree to Lotor’s plea. Let alone be the one to accompany him. Allura turns to Lotor. “Would this compromise still answer your plea adequately?”

Lotor glances at his entourage. The man with sharp teeth nods. Lotor turns to Allura, folding his hands in front of him. “Yes, I believe it would.”

Allura nods slowly, then looks at the rest of the Consulate. “Has anyone any objections or thoughts on the matter?”

The consuls look at each other, silent. Allura feels her heart leap in her chest. Was this all they needed? Do they doubt their opposition now that Lance is on board? Sometimes she wonders if he knows how much power he holds over the Consulate… She pushes a bit further, raising her voice a little. “Would anyone be opposed to a new vote, now that this proposition has been accepted by the pleading party?”

No one raises any objection, even though one or two of the consuls seem uncertain. She is tempted to continue as such, but her morals hold her back. “Or would anyone want a moment to think and talk with their entourage before another vote takes place?” she offers, sympathetically. However, to her surprise, no one asks for a pause, even after quickly whispering to heir entourage.

She feels light and warm, suddenly: she is full of hope. Allura smiles, speaking once again. “If everybody is ready, the vote will start.” She swipes her hand over the table surface’s quickly, so that the counters appear again. “We will now vote on the matter of giving to Prince Lotor the title of consul, and the escort of the Red Lion and its Paladin to the Kral Zera. First, those who are against, please put your hands on the table now.”

All consuls are glancing at each other, but none reaches to the table. “Those who are in favor, please put your hand to the table now.” She reaches forward, pressing her palm to the table’s slick surface. Shiro bends and put his hand next to hers, almost touching. Lance, Hunk and Pidge follows, the few consuls who were already for the proposition going at the same time. Slowly, all consuls around the table reaches for it, pressing their hands to it. The counter goes up, then clears to show the mention “Unanimous”, not going to the abstentions counter.

Allura feels the tension melt from her shoulders. A smile spreads across her face as she turns to her left.

“Prince Lotor,” she says, “welcome to the Consulate of the Space Alliance. You are now a consul with decision-making rights on the matters brought to our attention. You must know that this title is probationary and may be revoked by decision of the Consulate. Do you understand?”

Lotor smiles softly, nodding. “I do.” He turns towards the rest of the assembly. “And I thank the Consulate for this honor.”

Some nods in response, polite but not exactly warm. Not exactly cold either. Allura gets everybody’s attention again by starting to talk about the preparations for the Kral Zera. Establishing the schedule and things to be done – doing recon, preparing communication devices able to withstand jamming, training, etc – takes up a varga or so.

Lance listened seriously, having a polite input from time to time, assuring things will be done in time. He’s acting as he should have on the first meeting. And honestly, he feels great that his idea turned things around so quickly – Handsome Lance Strikes Again!

Lotor was right : he had influence over the Consulate. A negative one that is. By showing his support to the plea, he shook their convictions and forced them to pay attention. Then Shiro offered a sensible alternative to the one that scared them and kaboom! A complete turnabout! Total landslide!

“Buddy, you’re smiling a bit too much,” whisper Hunk to him as they get up at the end of the meeting. “Oh I can smile much more than this, believe me : this is contained!”

The balmeran Paladin laughs, shoving him by the shoulder. “Try to be modest, at least.”

“Lance’s never modest,” says Pidge, shrugging.

“Because I’m a GENIUS,” Lance retorts, pressing his indexes on his temples. “Guys, you gotta admit that Lotor’s plea would have had no chance to pass without me-”

Hunk had sudden hand gestures, but they weren’t needed: just by the look on their faces, Lance knew he had to turn around. He spins, his cape hitting small Pidge in the face and smothering her for a split tick as he faces Lotor who, surprisingly, can’t contain a chuckle at the scene.

“Prince Lotor,” states Lance, an embarrassed blush creeping to his ears as he feels Hunk tugging on his cape to free Pidge from the blue fabric.

“Prince Lance,” replies the other with a slight bow of the head. “Can I have a word with you?”

“S-sure.” He tried to reply to fast, pulling on his cape to bring it back to him as Pidge grumbles, looking for her glasses with Hunk. “Would you like to go…?”

“No, here is just fine.”

Lance blinks, then shake his head : guess their private meeting the night prior was good enough a reason not to want to be alone together again. Lotor has his hands behind his back, much like Shiro’s stance when he stands next to Allura.

“I would like to thank you. Both for changing your mind about my request and for accepting to be my escort to the Kral Zera.”

Lance waits a tick for Lotor to add something else – an annoying political tactic, maybe – but as nothing comes, he smiles. “You’re welcome.” As he lets a few ticks go by, Hunk coughs and nudges him in the back. Lance throws him an annoyed glare, mouthing “I know” to him : he was just getting to it, stop pressuring him!

“But,” he says, looking back at Lotor, “you were right. I did get stuck by my misconceptions and refused to see the bigger picture. This proposition is my way of making things right.” He licks his lips, trying to find the right words, then looks back at Lotor. “We are in no way friends, but… I wish for you to at least consider me an ally.” He smiles, giving out his hand to Lotor in an invitation for another human handshake – if they’re starting anew, they should redo this less-than-friendly greeting they exchanged at first. He cocks his head to the side, smirking. “It doesn’t mean we have to like each other or anything.” Agree to disagree, as they say : they don’t have to be on friendly terms to be able to work together. Anyway, by now, Lotor must find him pretty annoying and the feeling is reciprocated.

Lotor looks at his hand, then chuckles, much to Lance’s surprise. He takes his hand, firmly and tugs at it like the night prior, bringing Lance closer to him. His voice is low and soft as he speaks, his yellow eyes staring him down. “Oh, but I am starting to like you, my Prince.”

Lance shudders, surprised by such a declaration and feels his face going hot. Lotor smirks, letting go of his hand and turning around to walk back towards his entourage.

“…that was weird,” pipes up Pidge, who finally got her glasses back on her face, adjusting the strap that keeps them in place. “At least it seems to have gone well. I think,” adds Hunk, rubbing at his chin. He looks at Lance. “Lance, bud, your face is neon red.”

“Huh?” Lance turns to his friends, looking a bit dazed. Hunk raises his eyebrows. “You’re okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah… I guess I’m hungry. This meeting was too long for the breakfast I had.”

“Could have gone for a lot more vargas if we hadn’t suggested that,” chimes Pidge, smiling. “Let’s go grab something to eat. Hunk, you said you had a new recipe?”

“Y E S. Let’s go to the kitchens, I’ll show you! It smells so good that your drool, will drool.”

“Gross,” exclaims Pidge, laughing.

Lance laughs, following his friends, but he keeps running his fingers on his palm, once again surprised at how soft Lotor’s skin was, in his hand… He’s still dizzy of the way his heart leapt when he heard Lotor’s words but he blames it on his hunger – green goo is not enough of a breakfast for so many emotions.


	5. Circles

“Lance? What are you doing here?”

Lance flinches, but then turns his head slowly with a slight pout, trying to look natural and unbothered. Allura is walking up to him. Her silver hair is tied up and she is wearing her pink paladin suit, just as Lance is wearing his blue one.

“Oh, hey Allura. Nothing much,” he answers with a shrug, as if he accidently happened to walk out of his way to the tower that hosts the hangar of the Blue Lion. He even tries to lean casually against the bright blue barrier that protects it, but it’s curved surface makes him slide slowly if he leans on it for too long.

Obviously, Allura isn’t fooled by his act, but he looks around her exaggeratedly, trying to derail the conversation. “Where’s Shiro?” he asks rapidly. Allura puts her hands on her hips, looking at him. “He left just a moment ago. He’s going to get some more scaultrite lenses.”

Lance blinks, all pretenses gone to show a genuine interest. “Wha- we need more?”  Allura cocks her head to the side. “We inspected the generator early this morning – Coran said he noticed a few cracks here and there he last time he checked on it, so he asked that we take a look. There are some minor fissures. They probably won’t be a problem to wormhole you both near planet’s Feyiv’s system, but… we are not taking any chances.”

‘You both’ she says. Lotor and Lance, she means. Them. Allura confirmed with Lance multiple times that he was alright with this. She was really surprised he’d propose such a plan: one that forced him to form a team with Lotor. And Lance assured her again and again that yes, he was okay with this plan. To be completely honest, Lance didn’t know it would turn out like this when he set out of Allura’s room to meet with the rest of Team Voltron: he merely proposed that only one of the Lions were to accompany Lotor to the Kral Zera. Pidge was the one to start the elimination process of the most suitable Lion to use. One thing led to another and Lance was a victim of his own endeavor. But he’s not complaining: he can keep an eye on the galran Prince, this way. They are now allies, yes, and he is honest in his pursuit of a trust-based relationship, but he can’t shake the idea of a possible betrayal just yet.

Listening to Allura speak, Lance shake his head, approving of Shiro’s initiative. Since the Consulate’s meeting, the Kral Zera operations have been running non-stop. The same day a recon team was sent out to gather all information that could be of use : how many ships were on their way to Feyiv – or already there – which Generals seemed to received the Empire’s favors, but most importantly : how much time was left before the beginning of the ceremony. Prince Lotor had estimated it would take up to seven quintents, and he was not far from the truth : the recon team informed them that from the day the Consulate decided to help Lotor, they had five quintents left before the Kral Zera.

To get there, they would only need a few vargas – Red is fast, and Allura will provide a wormhole jump closest she can to save them time and troubles. However, this left them with only four quintents to get ready. Tasks were appointed and all concerned party started working. Some consuls left to return to their own planets or bases, unable to provide any support to this particular mission. Others stayed nevertheless, to be informed of the developments.

For the first quintents, Hunk and Pidge worked on the Red Lion’s circuits, making sure it was in its best state, and testing and updating its comcast for long-distance broadcast. At the end of the second quintent, though, Hunk had to leave for Balmera, to retrieve a battleship-class crystal with Coran : the one powering the Castle at the moment was almost dried up of all its power. Dragging Consellation City around was no easy task, even more so when they had to jump through time and space to keep their citizens safe : the crystal’s original task was only to power the Castle of Lions and the extra load is a huge burden. As a matter of fact, Pidge is on the bridge of the Castle, today, calculating and qualibrating so that Allura’s wormhole takes them safely to their destination, as its been a while since she’s done that kind of jump.

As Lance is useless when it comes to engineering, he spent most of the last quintents training or listening to Allura, Shiro and Coran planning approaches and alternatives with Lotor and his generals. He feels useless in those meetings – or, at least, incredibly stupid. His inputs are often punctuated with onomatopoeias and followed by unimpressed silences from his audience. Two or three times he caught Lotor snickering and he’d feel so incredibly embarrassed he’d become mute for the rest of the meeting.

So, for him, this morning was a training morning. Well, it was going to be : he overslept, as Coran is still not back from Balmera to annoyingly wake him up. And as he was not being escorted and rushed someplace of another for the first time in forever, he decided to pay a visit to Blue. But...

“What are you doing with your suit on?” he asks Allura, scratching his chin. “You’re going out?”

“Yes,” she steps closer, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she looks up to the Lion. “I’m going to make sure all of New Altea’s domes and bridges are safely connected and mobile. Just in case we need to engage in evasive manoeuvres.”

“Do you want some help? I’ll go get Red,” offers Lance, pointing the hallway with his thumb, but Allura shakes her head, smiling. “It’s alright, Lance. It won’t take long. No matter that, I’m sure you have your own matters to attend to.”

Lance sighs, then shrug. “Just some more training.” He falls silent, looking at his feet. Allura looks at him. “Still no luck, huh?” She stands at his side, putting her own hand to the barrier. Lance pouts, turning his head towards the stern and uncaring face of the metal feline. “No…”

He cannot lie about this. Ever since the Red Lion suddenly accepted him as his pilot, the Blue Lion has been closed to him. Multiple times he’s come to her, trying to get her shield to go down, but no success. He’s happy that Allura gets to be a paladin – she often confessed to him it was her dream since she was a child – but he feels kind of empty, if not sad, since he lost that connection to Blue.

“She’s not even talking to me,” he says, softly. He’d just wish to see Blue’s eyes shine bright and images to appear in his mind, but to him she stays silent. Thinking Allura’s lack of response odd, Lance looks at her to find her biting her lip and looking at the ground. Lance raise an eyebrow, then sighs again. “What is she telling you?” he asks, defeated.

Allura seems reluctant to talk, at first, but then makes up her mind. “That she won’t lower her shield as long as you’re here.”

“Urgh! Really, Blue?!” He throws his arms in the air. “Fine! I’m leaving!” He spins around, angry and hurt. Allura holds him back, putting a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry Lance, I-“ 

“No,” he stops her. “It’s not your fault. It’s me.” He takes his arm back and walks quickly out of the hangar, stomping his way to the training deck.  At least, the Gladiator would help him get rid of his anger. Or so he thought.

His blaster isn’t the best when it comes to close combat – which is why he challenges himself a lot with the Gladiator, trying to find ways to keep a long enough distance between them to shoot accurately, or learning to shoot from close-range. He knows it’d probably be easier with the Altean Broadsword shape his bayard can also take but… he’s not very good at it. He’s a way better sniper than knight.

For the first period of his training, he successfully kept his distances with the robot, landing some nice headshots (take THAT!) here and there. But as his stamina slowly ran low, the Gladiator comes closer and closer, until Lance completely misses his shots, firing at the ceiling and the walls until a kick from the Gladiator sends him flying across the room, rolling on the ground and loosing his grip on his bayard.

“Cancel training sequence,” he grunts, rising to his knees while rubbing his side where the metallic foot had hit. His breath is short and his silver hair sticks to his forehead because of a thin sheet of sweat, but he still rises to his feet, patting the dust off of his suit, glancing about to find his bayard.

“Looking for this?”

Lance stops dead in his tracks, his eyes finding Lotor’s. The Galra looks out of place in this all-white training deck: his dark purple armor looks black, almost. Lotor seems to be getting this bad habit of sneaking up on him. He is holding the Red bayard in his hand, looking at it critically before taking a step to offer it back to Lance.

“It looks smaller than the black bayard,” he says, with a curious tone of voice.

“It’s not,” rebukes Lance, grabbing the weapon. “All bayard are the same size.” He really doesn’t know why he’s so defensive about this. He glances at his bayard, as if unsure of what he is saying, but then shake his head, certain of his affirmation. “The only time they differed was in the hand of Zarkon-“ he breathes in sharply, suddenly aware that he brought up a sensible subject. 

Lotor, however, seems unphased by the mention of his father’s name. He shakes his head, pensive. “I see,” is the only thing he comments, before looking at the Gladiator standing by. He is holding his hands behind is back, yellow eyes glancing up and down the robot’s body. Lance can’t stand the silence; however short it is. “If you need to train, Prince Lotor, you’re welcome to use the training deck.” He opens his arms to show the room, before wiping his forehead with his wrist. Lotor looks at him, then smiles.

“Is it an invitation to train together, Prince Lance?” No it isn’t. But it would be rude to say so, wouldn’t it. Lance tries to shrug casually. “If… you want to, I guess we could-“

“Marvelous,” cuts Lotor, deciding on the matter. He walks a few steps away, before turning back towards Lance. He seems ready to go, a small smile on his lips, white hair thrown back behind his shoulders. Lance holds back a sigh. He doesn’t feel like it.

Well, maybe this is a good idea: after all, they’re going to be a team, out there. He should boot up some trust-building training sequences – one of those all Team Voltron had to go through day after day after day in the beginning – and they could learn about the other’s fighting style, weak spots and whatnots. Lance raises his chin and opens his mouth to speak a command when Lotor suddenly pulls out his sword – the ‘no-weapon’ policy has been lifted last quintent – and runs towards him.

Lance’s heart leaps, a strangled sound coming out of his throat, and he dodges quickly, rolling on the ground before pulling out his bayard. He puts his eye to his blaster and fires rapid shots at Lotor’s feet, trying to get him to stop or fall. He doesn’t have time to think or speak at all, Lotor zigzagging to avoid – fairly easily – the blasts, then jumping into the air to take Lance by surprise. Lance looks up to see a blade going down on him and his instincts luckily kicks in, making him dive to the side, landing on his stomach, the hand holding his bayard crushed under him.

As he rolls around, trying to raise his weapon to take a shot, Lotor’s feet appears suddenly, kicking the blaster out of his hand. Lance’s eyes follow the arc of the bayard, seeing it take back it’s original form in a shimmer of white light before bouncing on the ground. These few ticks left him vulnerable and he feels the pressure of a foot on his chest, and the cold steel of Lotor’s sword against his neck.

He looks up at Lotor’s darkened face and feels a cold shudder go down his spine. Silence holds. A few ticks go by while the world seems at a standstill, until suddenly, Lotor smiles. “Not bad,” he says calmly, putting his sword back in its sheath. “But you really do need to improve your close-combat skills.” He moves his foot to the side and bends down, offering a helping hand to Lance.

His hand is smacked away, harshly. Lance’s face is flushed with anger as he rises to his feet by himself. Lotor blinks, straightening his back while he distractedly rubs his hand. “Lance?” His tone is uncertain, his expression puzzled.  

The altean prince walks rapidly towards the fallen bayard, jaws clenched.  Lotor calls after him. “Prince Lance? Is everything alright?”

“Alright?!” barks Lance, grabbing his weapon before spinning around. His eyes are glowing with flames, his whole demeanor stiff with rage. “You just tried to kill me!”

“What? No! I did no such thing!” All of Lotor’s usual façade crumbles and he looks distraught, raising his hands as if trying to appease an animal. “Then what was that?!” Lance’s knuckles are white, his grip strong on his bayard. “You jumped at me from nowhere! If I hadn’t dodged it you’d have hit me!”

“It was training, we were-… training.” Lotor is obviously confused. Lance’s heart is still beating furiously fast, fear coursing through his veins, but Lotor’s words and expressions seems to be bringing him back to his senses, slowly. “Training? Training didn’t start yet, I didn’t even have the time to activate the training sequence,” he says through gritted teeth.

“I- I wasn’t aware you were-, I thought we- I thought we agreed to train together.” Lotor run a nervous hand through his hair, keeping his gaze locked unto Lance. Lance breathes in slowly, thinking about his words, then breathes out, pointing Lotor. “This is not how we train, here. We do team training. Or at least we give a heads up before attacking one another.”

Lotor open his mouth, looking for words, then closes his eyes with a sign. Lance can’t quite pinpoint his expression. He looks in pain, somehow. “My apologies,” he looks to the ground as he speaks, “I went ahead and trained the galran way. I didn’t think about how it might differ from the way you’re used to.”

Lance jaws are still clenched as he listens to him speak, but Lotor seems so sincere that he forces himself to relax his muscles. This is a cultural misunderstanding. Merely a cultural misunderstanding; be still, heart, you have no reason to race this way! He considers Lotor, for a moment, before looking around the room and then slowly walk towards him.

“It’s alright. I… misinterpreted,” he concedes. Lotor looks at him, shaking his head. “You had fair reasons to do so.” He looks at him with a serious expression. “I will do things your way from now on,” he says, “the galran way shan’t be a thing in this castle.” Lance stops in front of him, silent, then let his shoulders fall. His heartbeat slowed a bit. He feels ready to go back to his room and ignore the rest of the world for the day, but he can’t let this relationship hold on this sour note: that’s not what Allura would do, anyway.

“As reparation,” he starts, Lotor’s face becoming somber when hearing those words, “show me how to use a sword efficiently.”

Lotor blinks, taken by surprise. Lance swears he can read his mind, in that moment, and that he thought he was going to ask for some sort of political favor. Well though luck: Lance’s too simple a guy for that!

“You… you want to learn swordmanship?”

“I need to improve my close-combat skills, right? You just said so yourself,” replies Lance, raising his bayard to make the blade appear. “I can materialise this broadsword, but I can’t use it properly. You obviously know your way with a sword, seeing how you kicked my butt. Show me how I can kick yours and we’ll be even.”

He sounds way calmer than he actually is. He really thought he was going to croak there, for a tick. He feels some sort of déjà vu, with that crushing pressure on his chest, the proximity of death, a woman’s voice screaming his name-

“I will gladly show you,” assures Lotor, suddenly bringing Lance back to the moment. Lance musters a pale smile and takes a step back, putting his sword down. “Alright,” he says, “where do we start?”

Lotor seems pensive, obviously still shaken by what just happened – isn’t that proof of his non-murderous intentions? – but then run both of his hands in his hair to bring it back before putting them on his hips. “If you say you’re not used to a sword,” he starts, his voice gradually more confident, “then we should look at your stance first. How do you hold your sword?”

“Hum,” Lance looks at the weapon, then his feet, and takes and unassured stance, holding the sword in front of him with both of his hands, “something like this?” He looks up at Lotor in search of approval but finds an unimpressed and almost bored expression. “No,” he says flatly, cocking his head to the side. “You put too much of the weight of the sword on your back,” he explains, walking to Lance’s side. He presses one of his hand to Lance’s back while the other pushes his shoulder back to straighten him. “Your arms are what moves the blade; if you throw your back in the movement, you might gain power but you will lose your balance and one moment of unsteadiness is all it takes for an enemy to strike.”

Lance shake his head slowly, actually interested in the lesson: learning new information is the most effective remedy for his strained nerves. He’s never thought much about sword fighting before. Yes, it looks cool and there is a certain class to having a sword dangling on your hip, but doesn’t he look just as handsome when blowing smoke off of his blaster’s tip?

He rolls his shoulders to hold the weapon comfortably while keeping his back straight. “So… like this then?” He feels Lotor sliding his hand down his back, making sure there is no curve, and Lance’s heart beats slightly faster. “Yes,” answers Lotor, “this is already way better.”

“I’m a fast learner,” blurts out Lance, not really sure why, and throws a glance to the side. Lotor chuckles. “Is that so? Then, next is your legs: this is no good. It’s not wide enough, and your knees are straight.” Lance frowns, looking down. “Why is that a bad thing?”

“Again: your balance. When your stance is narrow like this, your gravitational center is way up here, “ he puts a finger to Lance’s hip, “and makes it easier to make you fall.”

“O-oh,” mutters Lance, not actually sure he understands, overly aware of Lotor’s fingertip. “So…?”

“So widening your stance and lowering your body by bending your knees slightly will keep your gravitational center low and help you stay grounded,” explains Lotor as he takes a step back, pushing at Lance’s heel with the tip of his foot to encourage him to widen his stance. Lance moves his feet accordingly, then bends slightly.

“Is that alright?” He looks at his feet, while still trying to keep his back straight. Lotor shake his head.

“Bend more.”

“Like this?”

“More.”

Lance clicks his tongue, annoyed. “I’m going to be sitting on the ground if I bend more than this.”

Lotor has a small laugh, stepping closer again. “You’re still not stable enough.”

“How do you know?” retorts Lance, pouting. “Shouldn’t I at least try and train a bit to see?” He looks at Lotor, who smiles softly, but quickly his vision flips around as Lotor hooks his foot behind Lance’s and thug gently, making him loose his balance. Lance exclaims in surprise, his arms flailing with the reflex to catch himself, but his fall is cut short by Lotor’s arm catching him quickly. He smiles, slightly bent over Lance, strands of hair falling around their faces like a curtain. “You need to bend more,” he says softly, amused.

Lance blinks, arms stiff over his chest, then lets out a long sigh, a tired smile spreading on his lips. “Prince Lotor, please, no more sudden surprises today: my heart can’t take it.” His heart is beating crazy-fast, but it’s not quite fear nor adrenaline, like earlier. He laughs, relaxing, and Lotor’s face seems to soften also and… wait, is he flustered? Lotor rises, bringing Lance up with him. He then let go of him before tucking his hair back behind his ears.

“My apologies,” he says, smiling. “I will try to refrain from any further surprises.” Lance snickers, looking at his suit to make sure the short fall didn’t mess with it. “Good!” Lotor looks at him, as he finishes his check. He then points out the suit’s blue shoulders.

“If I may,” he starts, “I was wondering; how come you’re wearing the Blue Paladin’s suit if you pilot the Red Lion?” Lance looks up at Lotor, surprised by the question. This is honestly the first… useless question Lotor brings up. This has nothing to do with the alliance or the Kral Zera: it seems like pure curiosity. Lance cocks his head to the side, bringing the red bayard to his hip to make it dematerialize as they speak. “Well, I used to pilot the Blue Lion. I’ve only become the Red Paladin quite recently.”

“Is that so?” Lotor frowns, confused. “Why the change?”

Lance cross his arms on his chest. “Lots of things happened. It was… let’s just say that our Red Paladin left. And the Red Lion accepted me as its pilot, so it just came to be.” Lance waves a dismissive hand as he speaks, brushing under the rug Shiro’s convalescence after a fierce fight with Zarkon, which left him unable to pilot the Black Lion for a while. “Allura now pilots the Blue Lion.”

“Yes, I was told she was also a pilot.” Lotor nods slightly, pensive. He turns to Lance. “I thought you were the Red Paladin because you took up your father’s title.”

Lance stiffens. “What do you mean?”

“King Alfor was also the Red Paladin, was he not?” answers Lotor, raising an eyebrow. Lance raises his eyebrows in response, then frowns, confused. “King Alfor isn’t my-“ He stops, a thought lighting up in his mind suddenly. “-wait. Prince Lotor, may I ask… how much do you know about New Altea?”

“Pardon?”

“It’s just… you seem to know a lot about alteans as a whole, but sometimes you say things that seem to be… a bit off, in regards of New Altea.” Lance cocks his head to the side, curious.

“Ah,” Lotor looks up, shaking his head. “That is fair,” he concedes. “Most of what I know of alteans – and Altea – I’ve learned from my father. So, it is true that my knowledge stops where the war begun between our people.”  

“Oh.” Lance looks to the ground. That explains it… The war begun when Allura was but a child, so it is quite normal for Lotor to be unaware of the events that unfolded afterward. Lance forces a laugh. “So I was right!” he exclaims, putting his hands to his hips. “When we first met, in the Great Hall, you had no idea of who I was!”

Lotor opens his mouth, as if to retort something, but then looks down with a sort of embarrassed smile. “I am sorry. I had only a vague idea of the state of the Royal Family.” Lance bites the inside of his lip, then shrugs. “You don’t have to apologize.” He smiles. “No offense done.”

“Oh, but you were plenty offended, that evening.” Lotor smirks. Lance is taken aback by the humorous tone in Lotor’s voice, then laughs himself. “Yes, well-“

“Prince Lotor,” calls a rough voice from the training deck’s door, and both princes turn towards it. One of Lotor’s generals, the woman he now knows is called Meircal, stands there, looking as serious as ever. “Princess Allura is ready for your meeting,” she growls in a deep voice, looking quite bored. “Ah, yes,” Lotor seems surprised, as if he had forgotten about it. He looks at Lance, then smiles. “Well, I guess we shall resume tomorrow, then?”

“Oh, huh, sure. Yes. Definitely.” Lance can’t help but feel a smidge of happiness, knowing that the lesson won’t end there. Lotor nod, before bowing his head slightly. “Prince Lance.”

Lance imitates his gesture, then raise his head to look at Lotor walking out of the room, Meircal following him. He stands for a moment in the empty training deck, arms dangling, but then turns back towards the Gladiator. It’s been a while since the last time he trained with someone. This was actually fun. Well, after the part where he thought he was going to die. Maybe he should train a bit more, with the better sword fighting stance Lotor just showed him?

He moves his hand about his thigh, to make his bayard appear, but then stops suddenly. Wait… Lotor is meeting with Allura? But… are Shiro and Coran back from their missions? He spins towards the door, frowning. She’s not having a meeting alone with a bunch of Galra, is she? Or alone with Lotor? He shouldn’t feel so unsecure but… the Space Alliance leader shouldn’t be alone with newly-made enemies-turned-allies.

He steps quickly out of the training deck, then jogs lightly in the hallways. He’s just trying to catch up, he’s not nervous. He’s obviously not keeping himself from running. Of course not. Just trying to reach the meeting room in time with-

There they are. Lotor and both of his generals are standing with Allura, all about to enter the meeting room. “Wait!” he pants, reaching the group. “Wait for me, I’m coming too.” Allura raises her eyebrows, turning towards him. “Lance?” She throws a glance to the Galra, then steps closer to Lance, lowering her tone slightly. “You don’t have to attend this meeting, you know? It’s only about some formalities in the Space Alliance.”

“Yeah, well,” Lance straightens himself, glancing towards the Galra trio quickly, then looking back at Allura, “I guess I can use a refresher.” Allura frowns. “You hate that kind of meetings.”

“No I don’t.”

“Yes, you do. What is going on?” Allura is whispering, now. Lance hunches next to her, speaking low and fast. “I don’t think you should be alone with them.” Allura hunches closer to him, speaking in the same way. “They are members of the Space Alliance now, so stop it with that attitude.”

“But-“ he tries to protest, but she cuts him, straightening quickly. “Enough! If you have so much freetime, Lance, I suggest you go to the City to answer our people’s questions and reassure them about our actions.”

“Allura-“

“Go.” Her tone is final, her stare, piercing. Lance clenches his fists, in a childish way, then glares at Lotor before turning around and walking off. Lotor puts a hand to his mouth, hiding his slight smile and muffling his laughter. He looks at the boy walking down the hallway, commenting. “He seems to be very protective of you, princess.”

“Just as much as I am of him.”

The tone is cold and Lotor frowns, surprised. He turns his gaze from Lance to Allura, meeting her fierce stare. Without exactly seeming menacing, the absence of a smile is telling. Is this a warning? He raises his eyebrows and smiles politely before walking to the meeting room. Allura observe as they proceed in, then looks at the end of the hallway, making sure Lance is gone, before following the three Galra herself.


	6. Ablaze

Amid the rings of meteor debris circling a lonely moon, appears the blue shine of the wormhole, suddenly expanding. The Red Lion jumps out from its dark center, immediately using some debris as stepping stones to try and avoid the dangerous moving masses it is surrounded by.

“Where’re you at, Lance?” inquires Hunk’s voice over the comcast.

“Reached destination,” grunts Lance in the mic of his helmet, pulling and pushing his levers to avoid being crushed by giant rocks closing in. “But the calculations were a bit off, Pidge, I’m RIGHT in the moon’s rings!”

“What?” exclaim the small voice, Pidge’s face appearing on the holoscreen. “Are you sure?”

“I’m PRETTY sure, Pidge!” The Red Lion leaps backward over an icy meteor and Lance feels Lotor’s hand grip the back of his seat tight, his face appearing near his.

“I corroborate,” he says, “this sure isn’t a smooth arrival.”

“You might want to sit down,” replies Lance without as much as a glance, pushing Red to its maximum speed towards a clearance that could be the outer edge of the ring.  

“Am I hindering your manoeuvres?”

“I’m good.”

“Then I’ll stand.”

Lance smirks, but Shiro’s voice brings his attention back to the situation. “Get out of there Lance, we don’t want you to be crushed before you even meet any Galra Fleet,” states the commanding voice. Lance rolls his eyes. “What do you think I’m trying to do?” He grunts, slipping out of two debris about to collide. “Pidge, can’t you give me directions or something?”

“There’s too much debris and you’re too far away, Lance, I can’t get a proper visual-“

“There,” interrupts Lotor, pointing in a direction, “it’s the outer side of the ring.”

“Are you sure?” Lance glances quickly at him, and Lotor nods. “Trust me on this,” he insists.

Lance nods back, “Alright,” then immediately changes Red’s trajectory. The Lion jumps from rock to rock, avoiding debris along the way and Lance effectively pilots the Red Lion to safety. They emerge of the ring and hovers in the safe emptiness of space for a tick. Lotor puts his hand on Lance’s shoulder, squeezing it slightly. “Good work.” Lance looks at him, wiggling an eyebrow. “I told you they’d be nothing to worry about with m-“

“Meteor to our right,” interrupts Lotor and Lance moves without even looking at the debris, taking them out of the way of the lonely hazard. Lotor had to grab Lance’s seat not to fall down, but chuckles lightly anyway. “I feel incredibly safe,” he says in a mocking tone and Lance blush slightly. “I saw it coming!” he lies, before turning to the side of the holoscreen. “Pidge, we’re out. Is the trajectory still accurate?”

“It should be,” answers the Olkari girl.

“You should be seeing the moon to your left and two planets to your distant right’” adds Hunk, trying to be helpful.

Lance looks about, then back to the map on his control panel. “Yeah, it seems to be the right spot. We’re proceeding with this trajectory.”

“Alright,” answers Hunk, clearly relieved that the mission is back on track. “You should arrive to Feyiv in two vargas,” confirms Pidge, her face disappearing from the holoscreen. “Got that,” says Lance, engaging in their course. Allura’s voice is finally heard, wishing them a simple and empathetic “Be careful” : she is probably very tired by the wormhole jump she provided them with. 

“We will,” answers Lance, before cutting the communication so he can exhale loudly. Lotor rest his arm on the top of Lance’s seat, bending on the side to look at him. “Are you alright?” Lance shrugs, looking at space through the holomap displayed in front of him. “Yeah, I’m good. I’m great.”

He wasn’t actually good nor great. Every mission Team Voltron has had came along with some stress and tension, but today was especially heavy on Lance. They did a lot of dangerous things, they fought against robot monsters, survived whole planet destructions and faced Zarkon himself at the top of his strength. But they did all of that in their Lion, or as Voltron, or at least wearing their armored suits and wielding magical weapons that can shapeshift at will, while counting on their teammate’s help. But this time…

Lotor might be an amazing fighter, but he’s sending him alone in a blood-and-power-thirsty bunch of Galras to fight until one of them becomes Emperor… and this prospect is terrifying.

Lance and Lotor have spent much time together these last quintent. Mostly training – as a team, this time – but they did talk a fair amount, sitting down on the training deck’s floor, taking a break. It was interesting to be able to talk with Lotor away from the others – his intimidating entourage and Allura and Shiro’s formal attitudes made it difficult for Lance to ask stupid questions – and Lance quickly noticed that Lotor was getting more and more comfortable with him. He clearly saw how slouchy Lotor’s shoulders were when they shared about galran and altean cuisine, and somehow felt vindicated that he wasn’t the only lanky prince around. He dares say, they do make a decent team, now.  

“What are you doing?” came Lotor’s voice. Lance jolts, pulled out of his thoughts and he turns his head around to look at him. Lotor is sitting on the floor of the control room, just as on the training deck, comfortably laying his back against the wall. Lance is confused for a second, but then remembers that his hand was moving. He didn’t notice that he had raised his hand in the air, wiggling his finger while looking outside. “Oh, nothing, I just…” he turns to the screen, showing it vaguely with a move of his hand. “I’m drawing constellations.”

“You’re what?” Lotor’s voice sounds amused, and Lance cringes, his ears turning red. “It’s just- its this stupid thing I did as a kid to kill time. We spent a lot of time out in space and I was super bored, so I just do it out of habit now.” He slides down in his seat, slouching exaggeratedly, like a pouting child. “Don’t mind it,” he grumbles.

“No, no,” Lotor says softly, getting closer, “its seems interesting. We still got a varga to kill, after all.” Lance blinks, looking at him. Wait. Say what?. Is the future Emperor of the Galra Empire saying he’ll draw stupid little doodles in space for fun? If someone had told Lance this was coming in his future he’d have… been really weirded out and told them to shut their quiznak.

But there he is : Lotor, looking way too seriously at star clusters in the distance, trying to make up shapes with his fingers. Lance can’t shake off his disbelief, even as Lotor turns to him, a smirk on his lips.

“What?”

“Nothing,” lies Lance, turning his gaze towards space. He tries to sit properly, then clears his throat.  “What did you come up with?”

“Ah, well,” Lotor says, also looking back to the stars, “I have a poor imagination, so you’ll have to forgive my lack of cleverness-“

“Woah, what a preamble…” Lance chuckles.

“-but if you connect those stars like this, it looks like the Black Lion, does it not?”

Lance looks at Lotor, then his hand, then raise an eyebrow, an amused smile on his lips. “Why the Black Lion specifically?”

“Well, it’s the head of Voltron so it’s the first that came to mind-“

“How rude,” interrupts Lance, feigning being offended, “when you are inside the Red Lion at this very moment.”

“Oh,” Lotor opens wide eyes, looking totally surprised as if he had completely forgotten, “I don’t know why I didn’t think about it first.”

Lance burst into laughter, holding his stomach with his arms. That face! That stupid face! He can’t believe how genuinely silly Lotor sounds sometimes. He can’t believe that Prince Lotor of the Galra Empire can look this stupid.

“Stop it,” says Lotor, clearly embarrassed. As Lance is still laughing, Lotor bends towards him and grab to top of his helmet with one hand to spin it around on his head. His visor now shows his ear as the side of the helmet smothers him. Lance flails his arms around to grab the helmet and remove it, teary-eyed from laughing, silver hair messy. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry-“ he apologises, “the look on your face was just too much.”

Lotor has a small smile. “Hey, watch what you’re saying to the future Emperor. The consequences could be dire…” he says, in a fake threatening tone. Lance roll his eyes. “Oh, I survived one of your murder attempts already, I’m not worried.”

Lotor chuckles, looking back at the stars outside. “I had heard,” he begins, slowly, “that King Alfor traveled a lot between planets. So he brought you along on those long trips?”

“What? Oh, no, huh…” Lance runs a hand through his hair, fixing it. “I… never really travelled with him… He didn’t travel much anymore. I mean ; he stopped most of his travels when the war begun.” He scratches his neck, looking at the floor.

King Alfor used to be all over the galaxy, researching, helping out, creating alliances. It became too dangerous for him to do so once planet Daibazaal got destroyed… once the war officially emerged… He then only traveled in his Lion as part of official Voltron missions, or in the Castle of Lion as diplomatic outings. Altea’s destruction marked the end of his mobility. Lance only traveled with him as part of Team Voltron and, sometimes, in the Castle of Lions.

Lotor stays silent a moment, looking at Lance, but then looks at the floor also. “ You know,” he begins, “I thought so during the Consulate meeting, but I couldn’t bring it up at the time… I wonder; is it really wise to send you on this mission?”

Lance blinks and looks up to him. “What? Why? Hey, I got us out of that moon’s rings oka-“

“No, no,” interrupts Lotor quickly, raising a calming hand. “This isn’t what I meant. Its just that I understand this mission was judged too risky for princess Allura, in regards of her position in the Space Alliance,” he explains slowly. That is true, it was the only reason the rest of team Voltron pushed her aside for that role. Lotor looks at him.

“But you’re also royalty, and to put New Altea’s prince in danger…”

He can’t finish his thought that Lance chimes in: “Allura is the true crown heir to New Altea. If any demise should befall me, the Altean Royal line would be unaffected.” The speech was fast, practiced, factual. Lotor blinks, faced with Lance’s almost bored expression.

“Ah… so the Royal family line is passed unto the eldest child? I see.”

Lance sighs. “No its not. Its-“ He looks at Lotor, mouth open, but stops. Come on, Lance. Tell him. He doesn’t know, tell him.

“Its… what?” Lotor asks, pressing him gently.

Why is it so hard? Of course Lance always avoids talking about it, but why does it seem even harder to tell Lotor?

Lance wet his lips and takes a breath. “It’s because I-“

A diffused roar and quick images suddenly blurs his conscience and Lance turns towards the screen. “Galra ships,” he says, putting his helmet back on.

“What, where?” Lotor bends over the console, peering into space. “Red sees them,” explains Lance, half of his vision focussed on the map on his holoscreen, the other half counting the ships in the distance, all floating about a small planet. The images are fuzzy and keep overlapping each other and it is hard for Lance not to let one vision suppress the other. He had such a better connection with Blue : with her, he was able to see all from his and her eyes, at the same time, yet not one over the other. He’s still not connected enough with the Red Lion…

“I’d ask you to sit back, now, because this might get bumpy,” says Lance, throwing a glance at Lotor as the ships finally are visible from the screen also.

Battlecruisers, three of them close enough to be a problem for them to land on Feyiv. Well, he’s not alone in this : he’s with Red, who’s fast and ruthless. No stopping. Lance throws Red in a quick run, aiming for one of the battleships. With its claws gripping the metal sides, he runs along the line of the warship, protecting them from its fire and any other ship’s potential attacks at the same time.

As he runs along for a few dobashes.. nothing happens. No fire, no sentries. An odd calm as the Red Lion reach the tip of the ship and jumps to continue its course towards the planet. “…this is weird,” starts Lance, just as one of the battlecruiser lets out a fleet of sentries. “Ah, there we go.”

“Their captains must be down on the planet already,” hypothesise Lotor, from behind him. “Whoever’s left in charge had to make the call. Ignore the fighters, they’re just there to hold you back. Go straight to the ritual site, they won’t dare follow.” Lotor seems confident in his statement and Lance nods, ignoring the sentries’ vessels to focus on his landing.

He avoids a daring shot from a sentry, then goes up sharply to get out of the way of a ship trying to barge into them, but soon enough they go through the planet’s atmosphere, burning up their way to the surface of the planet.  

Lance throws a glance to his screens and see the sentries’ ships turn back to rejoin their battlecruiser. “Looks like you were right!”

“Of course I was,” chuckles Lotor. Lance throws him a side glance, before pressing the button that opens up the back hatch that leads down to the Red Lion’s mouth. “You can go down and get prepared. We’re almost there.”

“Understood.” Lance hears Lotor get up, and his heavy steps clanking on the metal floor, and feels a squeeze in his guts. “Oh, hey, Lotor!”

The steps stop. “Yes?”

“Good luck, down there!” Lance’s face is hot, his heart beating uneasily. Lotor laughs. “Galras don’t believe in luck, only in skills. But… thank you, anyway.”

The steps echo down, then Lance closes the door. Man, its not the time to feel so stressed! They’re ON planet Feyiv and the ritual site is in sight, with like hundreds of Galras crawling about. This is not the time to lose faith and get cold feet. What is it that Lotor said? Skills? Believe in his skills, Lance. And uses yours to back him up. Alright, show some confidence! As Shiro would say : Look alive!

Soldiers on the planet have started to look his way and he lands with a little more force than he would have needed, raising a cloud of dust, scratching the ground of the ritual site. “KA-BOOSH,” screams Lance, pushing his levers to lower Red’s head, pulling a lever back up to open its mouth, revealing Lotor inside. Shocked faces spread in the crowd. Nailed it.

Lotor walks out slowly, now visible in Lance’s screen. The crowd spreads as he strides through, like a purple sea cleft by a rock. Some generals, already up some stairs, stopped in their tracks to look at him. Its only when Lance see Lotor turns his head, and notice his lips moving without hearing a single sound, that he remembers the communications he cut earlier. Quickly, he switches it back on, almost stuttering in his alacrity to contact the Castle.

“-and I’ll bring the Empire to new heights,“ resonates Lotor’s voice. Lance switches the long-distance’s comcast on. “W-we made it to planet Feyiv, encountered minimal hostilities, Lotor is down on the ritual site,” he states quickly.

“Finaly!” Allura sounds angry.

“Hey Lance, nice of you to inform us Lance,” scoffs Hunk.

“I’m sorry, guys, it got so boring on the way…”

“Did you fall asleep again?” asks a discouraged Pidge.  “No! It happened ONE TIME, alright? Hunk falls asleep in his Lion way more often than I do!”

“Hey! Don’t drag me into this!” exclaims Hunk, insulted.

“Alright team, we can talk about this another time,” chimes in Shiro, as serious as ever. “Lance, don’t get distracted, the mission needs your full attention.”

“Yes,” sighs Lance, locking his gaze on Lotor’s silver hair, “I’m sorry Shiro.”

“Its alright. Just stay focused. Keep us informed if needed.”

“I will.” Lance cuts the long-distance device, staring at Lotor’s silhouette grabbing a torch from the fire pit. One of the generals raise a hand to point at him, screaming something in his direction.

“The only traitors are those who defile our traditions, and seek only power as benefit from the war, ignoring the needs of the people of the Empire!” replies Lotor right back at him, raising his flame to the air. The general roars something, almost audible from Lotor’s mic, before running towards him. “Not if I kill you first,” mutters Lotor, running as well towards his opponent.

As their weapons, suddenly in their hands, clash, Lance grips his levers tight, knuckles whitening. Lotor told him not to intervene in a fair fight: doing so would compromise the ritual and the respect of his people towards him would falter. Lance is not used to watch idly by, as his teammates are being attacked. Do not intervene.

His blue eyes keep scanning the scene, making sure Lotor’s fight is undisturbed. When some second general rushes in, Lance flinches, almost pulling his levers to step forward, but as he attacks Lotor upfront, and Lotor seems to be able to handle both generals at once, Lance stays put. His jaws are clenched. This is unfair! Lotor is a very skilled fighter, but is he to believe that a two-on-one fight is considered honorable? That any of those generals would be respected for defeating a foe with the help of another? Why can’t he-

Oh shit- A galran general is running from the crowd to Lotor’s open back. Lance feels something burn in his throat and he pulls both levers. Red springs up and roars a deafening roar, startling all people present, stopping the coward in its tracks. Not on his watch. Lotor looks at the Lion, smiles, and turns back to his opponents, hitting one of them in the chest with his heel.

“You’re welcome,” mutters Lance, grinding his teeth. The startled crowd suddenly get in motion, soldiers darting left and right. “What are they-“ wonders Lance, frowning, trying to follow their movements while still keeping an eye on Lotor’s fight, but soon enough lasers hit the side of Red, destabilizing him. Ships are flying up, centering the Red Lion in their targets. “Ah, quiznak-“

Lance makes the Red Lion jump up to get out of the blaster’s way, rays of light making a new puff of smoke rise from where the Lion stood a few ticks earlier, scorching the ground. He takes to the sky, activating his communication channel to Lotor.

“I’m in a spot of trouble here,” he grunts, “you’re on your own for a tick!”

“Lance, you quiznaking idiot, what are you doing here?!”

Lance blinks, looking at his comcast’s panel. “…Keith?!” He doesn’t have the time to process the new voice that the member of the Blade of Marmora continues his angry speech.

“I told you not to come here!”

“Oh shut up! You told me to mess up a diplomatic meeting for no valid reasons and- urgh!” The Lion is hit on the side by a sentry ship, spinning in the sky. Lance regains control, shoots a few shots from his tail’s blaster. The ship goes down in flames. He turns to the comcast, angry. “What are YOU doing here?!”

Red’s eyes overlap his own vision, showing him the silhouette of his friend on the edge of the ritual site, looking up to them. “You need to leave! Now!”

“I’m a little busy if you couldn’t tell-“

“The place is rigged and will blow up any minute! Get off of this planet!”

“WHAT?” Lance is so shocked, he almost hit another ship head on, leaping over it last minute. “Why is-“ he begins, but everything becomes suddenly clear. “What is the Blade doing?! The Alliance did not approve of these offensive measures!”

The Blade rigged the whole site to get rid of most of the Galra Empire’s forces. Its so obvious now. Why couldn’t he understand that before? His mind has been so preoccupied… “Stop this right now!” Lance forces Red’s eyes to close, so he can focus on his own battle instead of keeping an eye on Keith. “You- I can’t! Each bomb has its own detonator, we can’t do anything about it now-“

“Then find a way! Protect Lotor! He’s a member of the Alliance and if anything happens to him-”

“Tsk, stars be damned-“

The communication is abruptly cut. Lance peeks at where Keith was standing to see him going back under the ritual site, slithering between the pillars. Something burns his stomach. Anger and worry. How can the Blade do such a thing without the consent of the Alliance? Aren’t they part of it?!

Avoiding being hit while also fighting back, Lance tries to see where Lotor is. His eyes easily find the silver hair, mid-stairs: he seems to have climbed a great deal and shaken off one of his opponent, fighting fiercely the one remaining adversary. He seems in control.

What is he supposed to do? His mind is racing. His first thought is to call back the Castle, to keep them informed of the new elements of the Blade’s actions, but he shakes that idea out of his head : there is no point in doing this now, they can’t do anything about it! Keith is trying something, he’ll let him figure it out before calling on-

He’s pulled out of his thoughts, manoeuvring around another ship. This is madness. Pure chaos. He can’t seem to get away from the hostile ships for more than a dobash at a time. Every shots he lands renew their attacks and all escape is risky, last-minute, as he refuses to get away from the ritual site: if he goes too far to avoid fire, he can’t protect Lotor! A solution would be to go down, land, fight from the ground, but then he would hinder the ritual or even put people in danger. Think, Lance, think!

“Lance, its no good!” suddenly comes back Keith’s voice. Lance grunts. “Don’t say that Keith, you’ve got to-“

“Its gonna blow! Now!”

Lance’s heart sink, a ringing in his ears silencing all around. Everything seems to slow down. His blue eyes turn to the ritual site, finding Lotor’s white hair. He is fighting fiercely throwing himself in every single movement of his sword. Lance pushes his levers, diving. He sees the structure of the ritual site trembling. People stumbling. Orange flames belches out of the bottom of the plaza, before bursting of the sides, sequentially going off farther and farther towards the stairs.

(Flames in the vacuum of space)

He sees Lotor and his opponent loose balance

(Sytems on high alert)

Keith running out of the top pillars, tackling Lotor

(sentries and)

Lance pulls his lever, opening Red’s mouth

(blood)

scooping the falling duo before springing back up in the air, quickly, closing the Lion’s maw. His heart is beating furiously, the blood rushing in his head muffling the voices he hears from inside the Lion’s head.

“-just happened?”

“Saving your life, apparently-“

“You’re the Galra from the garden-“

“Lance! Time to go!”

“What- Not at all! Lance! I must go back down!”

“Are you stupid?”

Lance ignore the bickering, simply flips the lion around to face the burning grounds. Most of the plaza has sunken in, and half the stairs are missing, but the highest part of the ritual site, where an altar stands, is unscathed. People are shocked, down there, but some of them are already getting up-

“Lance!” Lotor’s voice make him jolt and he brings the Lion down, landing in the debris of the plaza, lowering Red’s head on the intact ground. “Thank you,” resonates Lotor’s voice and Lance manages to croak a “You’re welcome”, his shaking hands gripping his levers tight. He watches Lotor walk out amidst the raging flames, picking up a torch with grace. Wounded Galra stare as he walks past them, climbing the broken stairs engulfed in smokes. Soon, he is at the top, lighting a purple flame at the center of the altar, and all Galra bows down.

“Well,” comes Keith voice, sighing, “you sure did fuck up my mission, stupid Lance. Lance?”

Lance do not answer, removing his helmet to let it fall on the ground, pressing his hands to his burning eyes as he chokes on a sob.

He cries and the Red Lion stays silent.

 

* * *

 

Casually leaning on Red’s leg, sloshing back and forth the liquid in his glass, Lance glances around the crowd. He’s never seen so many Galra in the same place before. Well, not with him amongst them. The last few vargas have been strenuous: once Lotor lit the flames, those who recognize his victory called upon their ships for their troops to come down, while the disparagers fled away with their loyal soldiers.

Lance managed to call the Castle to let them know how the events turned, before contacting the Blade of Marmora, through Keith, to beckon them back to Feyiv to help cleaning up and heal the wounded. He’s never been quite good at being authoritative, but he channelled his inner Allura well, stating it was their duty to do so, if they did not want their misconduct to be treated as treason. Kolivan was not exactly happy, but Lance didn’t really care.

Keith and Lance had an awkward conversation. All annoyance Keith was feeling dimmed when he saw Lance’s red eyes, but none of them really wanted to talk about it and they quietly drifted apart to attend to the cleaning efforts.  

Night has fallen now – or, at least, Lance think it has: its much darker out, people having lit small fires all over the place for groups to settle around. Food and beverages have been passed in the crowd : a galran soldier eyed Lance suspiciously while presenting him with a tray. Lance took the glass to be polite but wasn’t thirsty nor hungry.

From his isolated spot, he watches the odd tension rippling through the Galra. Disgruntled murmurs, side-glances thrown at members of the Blade, but also a quiet yet devouring curiosity aimed at Lotor, speaking with the generals who had stayed and pledged their allegiance to him. They have been talking almost uninterrupted since the troops have landed, and all wonder what is going to happen next. Lance also wonders, and he would like to have a word with Lotor, so that he could keep New Altea and the Alliance informed of the next step, but he figured he shouldn’t barge into that meeting.

“There’s trouble at some of their bases,” says suddenly Keith as he slides next to him. Lance is startled, some of the liquid in his glass slipping out. “Woah, what? Where did you come from?”

“You want to know what they’re talking about, right?” states Keith, unphased, arms crossed. “Detractors are attacking nearby galran bases.”

“How do you know?”

“I eavesdropped.” He shrugs.

“How did you,” starts Lance, amazed, as he hadn’t notice Keith approaching the group at all, but then he frowns, “wait, shouldn’t we go help them? The bases?”

“That’s what they are trying to decide. My bet is that they won’t.”

“How come?”

“Not enough forces, nor information, and almost impossible to organise on such short notice. They’ll probably just let the detractors destroy themselves and deal with what’s left.”

Lance doesn’t know how to feel. It sounds very much like something he said during Lotor’s plea, and he is now horrified of the idea. This feels like so long ago, now, although its only been a few quintents. He stares at his glass.  “This sounds very…”

“Galra,” cuts Keith. Lance stays silent, looking up to observe Lotor’s serious face. Newly Emperor and the kingdom is already falling appart. It must be hard. Keith stares at him also, before turning to Lance. “Do you trust him?”

“Who?” Lance ask, turning to Keith. “Lotor?” He raises his eyebrows. “Yes. Why?” As soon as the words left his mouth, Lance is shaken by the truth of it. He does. He truly does trust Lotor. He didn’t even take a dobash to think about it. All those conversations, every awkward interaction – his stupid, stupid face – just showed how sincere he is about all of this. They’re a team. He’s part of the Alliance. Lance has no reason not to trust him.

Lance holds Keith’s stare, strengthened by his new convictions, silent. Keith suddenly sighs. “I hope the Alliance knows what they’re doing.”

“We do. You should come at the meetings if you want to know,” adds Lance, nudging him with his elbow. Keith grunts. “They’re boring.” 

“They sure are.”

Keith cracks a smile, turning his head around, then click his tongue. “Ah. Guess I’ll take my leave.”

“Hm?” Lance blinks, following his gaze to look at the generals dispersing as Lotor walks towards them. “Oh, yeah. Time for politics, I guess.” Lance laughs lightly, but Keith turns with a sullen expression. “I’m not far away.”

Lance rolls his eyes at this comment, and slightly straightens himself as Lotor stops in front of him. An amused expression on his face, Lotor raise an eyebrow. “Is he going to put a blade to my throat again if I step too close?”

Lance chuckles, shaking his head. “No, no… well, I don’t think so.” He looks up at Lotor, smiling. “He wouldn’t dare attack the Emperor,” he says, bowing his head slightly at the mention of the title. _I hope,_ he thinks to himself. Lotor has a soft chuckle. “It is true that my status has changed… but please, just call me Lotor.”

Lance’s heart start beating faster and he raises his eyebrows. “Oh, yeah, sure. Cool.” Lotor chuckles, then point Lance’s still full glass. “Not to your liking? It isn’t nunvil, but it is quite good.” Lance puts an offended hand to his chest, “I drink other things than nunvil, you know. My, what do you think of me?” he ask in a mocking shrill voice.

“Well, let’s see,” begins Lotor, looking up as if thinking hard. He takes a step forward, talking. “A loud, stubborn prince with no manners-“

“Hey-“ tries to protest Lance, actually offended this time.

“- quite childish in his ways, clumsy in politics-“ continues Lotor, walking closer.

“Okay now, wait a-“

“-but who is also very sincere and loyal, having the wellbeing of others at heart.” He stops quite close to Lance, looking down at him with a smile. “Skillfull in tactics and combat, very smart and, quite honestly, pretty fun to converse with.”

Lance is red from head to toe, squeezed against Red’s leg. His heart is beating like crazy. He… can’t take compliments very well. He’s more used to people pointing out his flaws. Lotor smiles gently, patiently waiting for Lance to break out of his stunned silence, but as he doesn’t seem able to, he speaks once more, in a low voice.

“Thank you, Lance. I couldn’t have gone this far without you.”

Lance takes in a shaky breath, but the warm air between them is no relief. “I- you-“ Oh god, it feels like his brain is fried. “You- You would have, I’m just- I mean I’m not-“

“I mean it,” interrups Lotor, frowning slightly, lowering his face closer to his. “It’s thanks to you.” Lance’s body feels warm and fuzzy, as if lacking oxygen. Its- its probably because Lotor is so close ; there is no air here! He’s trying to find something to reply, but nothing comes to mind, his eyes shifting from Lotor’s deep blue eyes to his lips, so close, so close he could… almost… brush his own against his…

Lotor’s mouth opens slightly, his eyebrows relaxing. He raises a hand between them, brushing Lance’s silver hair out of his eyes. His voice is low, so low, when he speaks again.

“Lance, you…”

Lance’s brain stop functioning for a second and his glass slips out of his fingers. It crashes on the grounds, making them both jump. They stare at the sharp pieces for a tick, dumb and silent, but Lance quickly slides to the side, escaping from the narrow space between Lotor and the Lion’s leg.

“Oh. Ha ha, oops. I’ll, uh, go get something to clean that up,” he says, quickly, walking towards one of the fires.

“Lance, it’s okay, it’s not necessary-“ starts Lotor, but Lance is already running off. Heart beating, face warm, he walks as if on autopilot. What was that? He quickly brushes his hair aside just as Lotor did one moment ago, feels his face go redder as he does.

Quiznak.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everybody! I'm very sorry for the wait, lots of things happenned between last chapter and this one! I'll try to be faster with the next one and I hope you enjoyed this new development in the story!


	7. Speckled in sunlight

“Anyway, long story short, he didn’t have a choice in the matter.”

Sitting in that comfortable squat balmerans always do, Shay finishes the tale of her stowaway in the Yellow Lion, throwing an amused glance at Hunk. He himself is sitting cross-legged in a very altean manner, just like Lance next to him. She has been in New Altea ever since Hunk came back with a new battleship class crystal, sneaking her way into the Yellow Lion to come along unnoticed. Lance wasn’t aware she had come against Hunk’s will and just now asked her how she managed it, as they all sit in the hallway which leads down to the meeting room.

“You shouldn’t be proud of that,” huffs Hunk, crossing his arms, “It could have been dangerous! What if I was attacked and opened the Yellow Lion’s mouth, huh? You’d been swimming out in open space is what would have happened!”

“No, it wouldn’t. Because Yellow knew I was in there and wouldn’t have put me at risk,” Shay refutes, smiling.

“How can you be so sure? He’s a magic Lion, alright, but he’s not omniscient! I think…”

“He told me,” she says, shrugging.

“Wait, WAIT,” interrupts Lance, raising his hands. “The Yellow Lion SPEAKS to you?” His eyes are wide while both balmeran stare at him.

“Well, yes?” Shay seems confused by his reaction, while Hunk perks up, stars in his eyes.

“Oh, Lance, I forgot to tell you! Shay and Yellow totally get along!”

“Get along, okay, but he SPEAKS to her?”

“Yeah! She could, like, totally pilot it. She could be the next Yellow Paladin when I take over the Black Lion to be the head of Voltron – as I should be.”

Lance and Shay laughs, knowing that Hunk only says that because he tried multiple times to be the head of Voltron with the Yellow Lion when he first became a paladin and didn’t understand how the Lions worked yet. Lance turns to Shay, smiling. “But seriously, that’s great! Would you like to pilot it?”

“Yeah, why not? I like Yellow,” she says, blushing slightly. Lance notices and grins, turning to Hunk to punch him on the shoulder. “I like Yellow too!” he says, and both balmeran blush deeply, suddenly avoiding anyone’s gaze. “Oh, yeah, ha ha,” starts Hunk, patting his yellow tunic with a clawed hand, while staring at the ceiling, “yellow is my favorite color!”

Lance lets them stew in their embarrassment for a dobash, amused to no end, then pipes up innocently: “My favorite color is pink.” Shay brings her attention back to him, visibly relieved to have another subject to jump on. “Really? I would have thought you’d like blue best.”

“I was the Blue Paladin but I don’t have to LOVE blue,” Lance replies, shrugging. Hunk laughs before grinning himself. “Yeah, but the only reason you like pink is because of Allura.” Lance opens his mouth to answer, but a strong vibration stops him. All three of them turn around to the window in the wall, observing a new galran battleship slowly passing over New Altea. They look at it in silence as the vibration caused by its reactors dims slowly, then disappear.

“Still as impressive, huh,” comments Hunk, and Lance nods distractedly. Multiple quintants have gone by since Lotor became Emperor. It took a few quitants before New Altea was able to wormhole to planet Feyiv : they had to make sure it was safe to bring so many civilians this close to the planet, as detractors were still roaming and causing trouble in the galaxy. New Altea’s security was guaranteed once Lotor asked the Galra Royal Warship to be brought over, and so Allura brought Constellation City to the Galra.

Pidge had to leave once the Kral Zera mission was completed, but Hunk and Shay decided to stay for a while and, honestly, Lance is relieved to have people to hang out with. Lotor and Allura are all over the place, talking about security measures, future reparation settlements, dismantling oppressive galran colonies, etc. – which means that Shiro and all the generals are also in tow everywhere they go. Lance didn’t even have to avoid Lotor not to see him.

Not that he wants to avoid him. Well, not really. He just wanted time to think, after… whatever last time was. Too many things happened and he needed time to process it. Honestly, he feels Hunk chose to stay in New Altea only to cheer him up : of course his childhood friend notices that kind of things. Bless him and his big rocky heart.

“They probably secured the base, then? If they’re back,” suppose innocently Shay, taking her eyes off the ship. Lance nods. “Probably.” Lotor finally decided on sending support to the bases attacked by renegade Galra generals, a few quitants back. Lance is happy he decided to do so. “One of them, at least.”

“They’ll get the others soon,” assures Hunk, confident. “The Blade is with them, they’ll pull through.” The Blade of Marmora has been assigned the mission also, as reparation for their attack on Feyiv. Lotor declared he understood their motivation – a very Galra reasoning, he said, to bring down the universe’s oppressor in mass – and so they were forgiven, but not without a sign of good will on their part.

Lance laughs. “Forget the Blade: Keith is with them, of course they’ll succeed.”

As they speak, the squeaks of the hinges of a door, down the hallway, catch their attention. Galran generals start pouring out of the meeting room. Lance gets to his feet and dusts off his light blue tunic. No fancy princely clothing today: just good old comfortable short sleeved tunic, pants and moccasin. He’s not even wearing his crown, nor any crystal earrings.

“Well, they’re done,” he says, turning to Shay, who is helping Hunk get up from the ground. “Ready to go?”

“Yes!” Shay smiles, letting go of Hunk’s hands. Hunk stretches his back, before shaking his legs out. “Man, I should stop sitting like that.”

Lance chuckles, then starts walking down the corridor, slowly, carefully scanning the group as they leave the room, fiddling unconsciously with his ring. He finally sees white hair: Lotor and Allura, exchanging polite final words as they part. Lotor follows his generals in the perpendicular hallway, as Allura walks in Lance’s direction, Shiro at her side. She notices him and smile. “Hello Lance.” Shiro waves at them, seemingly happy to see the balmerans.

“Hey Allura, hi Shiro” he answers, passing them by to continue towards the other corridor. Allura blinks, following him with her eyes. “Where are you going?”

He spins around, walking backward. “To have some fun!” He smiles and wave, before turning back to jog to the corner of the corridor. Shay and Hunk greet Allura and Shiro, also, following him.

Lance jogs for a few ticks after the Galras, eyes locked on the long white hair, and only calls out when he feels he’s close enough to be heard.

“Hey, Lotor!”

Multiple generals turn around suddenly and Lance stops dead in his tracks, grimacing. That’s… that’s a lot of angry glares. But amidst those menacing yellow eyes, there is one smiling face. “Lance,” answers Lotor, walking towards him. “What is it?”

“Uh…” Lance eyes the menacing group behind Lotor, then throws a quick glance behind him. A bit reassured by Shay and Hunk’s presence, he turns back to Lotor. “Well, you are free, right now, right?” He had looked up very seriously Allura’s schedule and noticed that hole in all the crazy meetings-packed-quintants. Lotor blinks, seems to be thinking for a tick, then nods. “Yes, I guess it is true.” He smiles. “Do you need my assistance?”

“Yes. Well, no,” Lance corrects himself. “We just want to know if you’d like to go to the City with us.”

“Hi,” comes Shay’s timid voice. “We’re going to the market,” adds Hunk, seemingly not intimidated by Lotor’s entourage. Lotor himself seems taken by surprise by the proposal. Lance puts his hands on his hips. “Well, you know, with all that happened you didn’t have the time to explore New Altea at all – right? – and I thought maybe it would be nice to do… anything else than boring meetings, really.”

“That… sounds lovely,” finally says Lotor, softly, a small smile on his lips. “It would be my pleasure.”

“Really?” Lance is surprised, yet pleased with that answer.

“Absolutely.” He turns to the generals and waves them away with a hand. “Go without me. Prepare your updates on the situation, we’ll look them over later,” he says to them with a cold tone, obviously tired of all the politics and urgent matters he has to take care of.  Some ‘yessirs’ and ‘vrepit sa’ are heard and the generals turn away, leaving to rejoin their respective ships. Lotor looks at them for a while, then turn to Lance and his friends. “Shall we go?”

A big smile lights up Lance’s face as he throws his arms in the air like an excited child. “YES!” Hunk imitates him, hooting gleefully.

The group makes its way throughout the Castle to use the bridge leading directly to the dome encapsulating the market. On the way, Lotor listens with a polite, yet visible curiosity, to Shay and Hunk’s babbling of Balmera, engineering, cooking and the Yellow Lion.

“How did you become the Yellow Paladin?” suddenly asks Lotor, as they’re going down the big ornate staircase that marks the entrance of the dome. “If I may be so bold,” he adds, as if apologizing for the question. Hunk waves his worry away with a hand. “Psht, it’s okay dude. I mean, Lord Dude. Emperor.”

“Lotor is fine,” he says, laughing.

“Phew, okay.” Hunk seems relieved. He had heard from Lance that Lotor was actually very easy to talk to, but he still had his doubts. Until now: it’s his first real conversation with him, and it seems to be going pretty well. Although Hunk is one of these people who are impossible not to get along with.

They all stop at the bottom of the stairs, as Hunk raises his hands to punctuate his story. “So, the Yellow Lion was in possession of the Galra fleet that enslaved Balmera, right – no hard feelings, it’s in the past – and, well, I just _heard_ it, you know? It kept calling me. So one day, I had enough,” he looks at Shay, saying this and she smiles a little, “and I snuck past sentries, stole a ship, infiltrated the battleship and, just, went right to him.”

They all listen quietly. Lance bites his lip, uneasy. He doesn’t like this story. He turns his attention to Lotor, who seems entranced by the tale. That makes Lance feels better a bit.  

“I didn’t have a plan,” continues Hunk, “which, in retrospect, was really stupid. I just went to town, wrecked everything I could, and suddenly BAM, King Alfor was there with the red Lion! And the Blue Lion was there too, and we just, fought off the Galra fleet until they had to abandon Balmera.”

Lotor turns to Lance. “Is that how you met?” Lance blinks, suddenly aware that he was staring at Lotor and wondering if he noticed. His ears turn red. He shakes his head. “Oh, uh, no. I wasn’t a Paladin at that time.”

“Yeah, no, Lance and I knew each other before all that.” Lance turns to Hunk, and they stare at each other for a tick. Hunk is the one to turn back to the others: he suddenly claps his hands and opens his arms wide. “Anyway, we’re in Constellation City! Time to stuff ourselves with delicious food!”

Lance and Shay laughs, while Lotor raises his eyebrows, startled by such vigor. Hunk takes the lead towards the main street of the market. As he talks to no end with Shay, Lotor seems to be listening for a bit, before letting his eyes wander around. Lance observes his face, looking for reactions as the Galra discovers Constellation City.

Its short, elegant buildings, the white paved way on which they walk, the colorful flower garlands hung above their heads, from roof to roof, stars, ships and other domes visible far above, through the thick glass. The air is filled with the smell of fresh food, a nice hubbub resonating all around them. They pass people on the way, alteans, but also aliens from other parts of the galaxy, occasionally a person from Rygnirath or Nalquod. All of them eye them suspiciously, or suddenly go to the extreme side of the road when they notice the dark imposing silhouette of Lotor in the group. A cluster of children goes quiet as they pass them by, tip-toeing to look above their friends’ heads at the famous Emperor.

Lotor turns to Lance and, once again, Lance just then realize he was staring. “Was Altea like this?” asks Lotor, softly. He seems… sad. Lance looks around, quickly, before turning to Lotor once more. “It was… similar.” He smiles. “Buildings were bigger. Land was wilder.” He takes a moment to think, silent. He answered quickly, but… the outskirt of the Capital, back in Altea, looks a lot like this. Maybe the houses were not so close to each other…

Lotor nods slowly, bending his head back to look at the flowers. “It must have been majestic.” Lance is not sure how to answer to that. They didn’t really avoid the subject of Altea, but they weren’t in the habit of speaking of it. In the rare occasions Allura would talk about it, she’d mention the flowers. Coran, oddly, misses the most unlikely and dangerous things. Lance… he’d rather not think about it. Memories are painful.

Luckily, they’ve reached the food market and Hunk turns to them. “Lotor,” he declares, a serious expression on his face. “Yes?” hesitates Lotor, frowning slightly. “Have you ever had Altean cuisine?”

“Barely,” confess Lotor.

“What about balmeran?”

“Never.”

“Arusian?”

“The Galra Empire is not keen to cultural exchanges.”

“Then it’s decided!” Hunks turns to the counter of a booth, hands on his hips, and declare in his most solemn voice: “I’ll take one of each, please!” The workers on the other side have delighted smiles, nodding as they work fast. Lance opens wide eyes, an incredulous smile spreading on his face. “Hunk, that’s a ton of food.”

“Yeah, you’re paying,” replies Hunk casually. Lotor can’t keep himself from snickering. A few dobashes later, the four of them have arms full of aromatic plates, well grilled skewers, colorful drinks and desserts. Hunk keeps pestering Lotor, asking what he thinks of this meal or that one, but always puts new food in his mouth before he can answer, making Shay burst into giggles. Quickly, Lance can’t help but join in, putting a row of skewers in Lotor’s mouth with a devilish grin, as he can’t defend himself.

“What do you think of that?”

“Mmfpbmm.”

“I’m sorry, what? You’ll have to articulate more, Lotor.”

“Lance!” exclaims Hunk, looking offended. “You can’t give him ALL of these at once : he’ll get all the flavors wrong!” He grabs the sticks of the skewers, taking them back, before pointing Lance with them, menacingly. “That is not the proper way to enjoy food!”

“It’s still delicious,” comes Lotor’s muffled voice, cheeks rounded by bites too big to swallow. He struggles a bit with his chewing, then gulps and sigh. “But, _please_ , let me breathe for a moment.”

A clear laugh is heard and makes them all turn around. A young altean woman is chuckling to herself, a hand pressed to her mouth as if to try and contain the laughter. She notices the stares and goes immediately red. “I-I’m sorry,” she begins, but is cut by Lance’s laugh. High, clear – maybe a bit exaggerated – but it makes her smile a bit, still shy. “It’s alright,” he reassures her, calming down. “Hey, do you want something to eat? Or drink? We have tons, so… Lotor, you mind parting with that drink?” Lance points a glass Lotor is holding in one of his hands and Lotor shakes his head. “Of course not.”

“Ah, you don’t have to…” begins the young woman, but Lotor steps closers and bends a bit to be at her height, offering the glass. He smiles. “Please take it, it would be my pleasure.” The altean woman blink, shocked, then blushes, taking the glass from his hand. “Th-thank you,” she stutters, visibly flustered, but a small smile is visible on her face.

“Nobody drank from that one yet,” assures Hunk, suddenly beside her, hand to his heart to prove his honesty. Lotor straightens himself. “Of course not, I wouldn’t do such a thing to a young woman.” The altean woman looks at them both before laughing again. Shay and Lance laugh as well and soon, they are all sharing the moment. Even some strangers, who had stopped to look at the scene, can’t help a giggle to creep out of them at the surprising sight of the royals goofing off. Lance turns to some people close by and start offering food and beverages. Hunk, Lotor and Shay follow his lead and suddenly, this area of the market is full of people eating, sharing and laughing.

Lance gets close to Lotor, pointing some people nearby to get their attention. “Hey, quick question: what are your favorite spots in the market?” They seem surprised and confused by his question – after all, Prince Lance is often spotted all over New Altea and must know all there is to see already. He grins, going on the tip of his shoes to put an arm around Lotor’s shoulders, dragging him down at his height. Lotor has a surprised exclamation, not expecting the sudden movement. “We’re showing this guy around New Altea and we’re taking ideas,” explains Lance nonchalantly.

His question is met with some hesitant smiles, a muffled laugh, but one lady finally thinks out loud. “I enjoy the gardens…”

“The gardens aren’t in the market,” replies another woman, holding an empty glass. “Well, it’s still a really pretty place,” the first woman defends herself. Some people laugh and Lance smile. “It’s a good idea, maybe we’ll go later! Right, Lotor?” He turns to Lotor and – wow, is he blushing? He seems really flustered – Lotor nods, offering a charming smile to the woman. “I do enjoy gardens and appreciate flowers; I would love to see.”

The woman seems relieved not to be mocked and nods, agreeing with Lotor’s statement. A man gets closer, a twinkle in the eye. “The tailor’s shop, I enjoy a lot.” Lance’s eyes light up. “Yes! Oh, this is a good idea,” he says, letting go of Lotor’s shoulders to face him. “Have you ever tried altean clothing? Or do you always wear that boring thing?” He knocks on Lotor’s armor with a knuckle, producing a dull sound. Lotor cocks his head to the side. “Boring? It is the most recent model.” Oddly, he seems really insulted by that comment, even though he tries to hide it. This amuses Lance, but he decides not to hop on this new information and, instead, keep it in the vaults for future teasing.

“Okay, you might be on par with galran armor fashion,” he continues, “but you ever wear any fabric?”

“The war asked of me to always be ready for battle,” he says simply and some smiling faces around them suddenly turn grim to the fresh memory of war. Lance smiles wide to bring the mood up. “Well, the war is over now. So let’s go to the tailor, yeah?” Saying so, he turns to call Hunk and Shay before pushing Lotor through the crowd, towards the aforementioned shop. “Thank you everybody! Enjoy the food!” he shouts over his shoulder, waving at the crowd. Lots of people wave back, amused and happy.  

The tailor’s shop is bigger than most in the market, and is the only place for handmade clothing in New Altea. The Castle’s seamstresses work there, when they are not running after Lance to fit him into new garments. At first, Lotor seems interested in the different clothing displayed, enjoying the soft fabrics and delicate flourishes, observing altean fashion as one looks at a piece of art. But once everybody’s attention turned to him, he became suddenly aware he could not escape and felt completely out of place : stiffly standing in the middle of the room, armored from the neck down, as Hunk, Shay, Lance and the tailor buzz around, looking for interesting fabric, patterns or cuts for him. Soon enough, Lotor was trapped in a circle of mirrors as the tailor and the seamstresses redid some stitches of premade clothes for them to fit Lotor’s frame.

It took a couple of vargas – a few of New Altea’s residents came in, looking for clothing, and wound up looking at the tailor’s work with curiosity. At some point, Hunk and Shay had to leave, mentioning some things they had to attend to, but still offering to bring Lotor’s armor to his quarters back in the Castle. Lotor was about to protest, but the sight of Shay picking up his heavy chest piece with ease shut him up.  “Mark me as thoroughly impressed,” he said, laughing. “As you should be,” replied Hunk with a wink before slipping out with Shay. It only took a few dobashes more before the hardworking crew of the shop managed to finish the touch ups to Lotor’s outfit and they finally exited the shop, with smiling seamstresses waving them out.

The marketplace is quieter now, with only a few people straying here and there in the dim light. Lotor turns towards Lance. “Am I to New Altea’s fashion standard, now?” he asks ironically. He is wearing a delicately ornate black shirt with a straight collar. The sleeves are mid-length – no wonder, with such long arms – and opened on the underside, leaving room for movement without being frivolous. It fits well into the snug pants, a silver belt, hiding the seems at his hips. Lotor’s white hair falls elegantly in tune with the fabric, as a cascade of stars stretching into a black hole.

The shirt was one of the biggest altean cut available in the shop, and still it needed adjustments, whereas the pants fit perfectly – although a bit on the tighter side at the hips. Lotor really has an interesting, yet imposing physique. A perfect blend of altean’s limber bodies and Galra’s impressive size.

“Not quite, but the tailor will take care of that,” replies Lance, smirking. He had asked the tailor to take Lotor’s measurements so that he could sew together an outfit for him. “But no worries; you are quite handsome,” he adds and Lotor’s cynicism seems to melt away suddenly. He looks around, as if to hide his embarrassment, then clears his throat.

“Are we going back to the Castle?” He points the way they had come from, as if asking if he should walk in that direction. Lance shakes his head. “Nuh-huh, we still have to visit the gardens.” Lotor raises his eyebrows. “Even though we’ve already do so much today?” Lance laughs. “This was nothing. Also, the light is starting to dim and it’s the perfect time for garden viewing.”

New Altea’s sky is always starry in the domes, but ambient lights are placed all around the City to mimic daylight, slowly dimming into nighttime and coming back to their full glory in the morning, according to the 20 vargas system of Altea.

Lotor takes another look around, suddenly aware of the change in the lighting, then smiles. “Is that so.” He frowns, turning back to Lance.  “Now that I think of it, haven’t I seen the gardens already?” Lance shakes his head again, raising a schooling finger. “That was the _water_ gardens. And we’ll have to visit that one too, since I don’t think you had the time to really see any of it.” Lotor laughs. “Yes, well… I was looking for you.” Something about the way he said it makes Lance’s ears turn red. “The gardens’ this way,” he says simply, pointing in a direction before starting to walk.

It feels really different to walk beside Lotor now that he’s out of his armor. His step is lighter, his new boots producing a faint hiss as it rubs on the path, and Lance can feel the heat of his skin as Lotor’s now exposed arm swings near his. They barely talk on the short way, smiling and greeting people they meet on the path. They cross a residential dome, zigzagging between the homes to reach the bridge that leads to the Public gardens. By the time they step into it, the ambient lights have reached their lowest settings and some lightspots, hidden here and there around the paths are the only guiding lights. There is a faint pink glow bathing the path and Lance looks overhead, clicking his tongue when he sees the galran battleship responsible for it.

“Noooooo,” he whines, before looking around. Lotor looks up and frowns. “What seems to be the problem?” Lance doesn’t answer and walks quickly, turning this way, and that way, mumbling to himself. “No, no, no, the light is quiznaking the… tsk…” Lotor blinks, confused as to why the small amount of light provided by the ship is an issue: if anything, it helps to see the gardens better in the dark! His eyes follow Lance as he strays from the path, walking carefully through the plants. He soon disappears behind some tall leafy plants, and Lotor stops where Lance had left the path.

“Lance?” No answers. He frowns, throwing quick glances around, but nobody seems to be in the gardens. “Lance?” He asks, louder, taking a step in the floral arrangement, but he’s stopped by a sudden exclamation, somewhere to his far left.

“Ah-ha!” He turns his head in that direction, on guards, but it is Lance’s smiling face that pops out from behind a tree. “What are you doing? Come over here!” he beckons him, waving. Lotor is just lost in that weird behavior. He goes to where Lance is, carefully walking around the plants, frowning. Lance waits for him to be close enough not to get lost before sliding back behind the tree. Lotor circles the tree, uncertain of what is going on, but all doubt and worry fade away, replaced by awe and wonder, as he finally sees what Lance was looking for. In the shade of the tree and the bushes, in clusters on the ground, flowers are shining bright. Delicate golden petals, sparkling like the most delightful sunlight, atop a long stem.

Lotor is still taking it in as Lance crouches down, a feline-like smile on his face. “Watch this,” he says, brushing a hand against a row of flower’s stems, making them sway as if pushed by a gust of wind, and puffs of bright spores suddenly shoot in the air. The spores spread then slowly fall down, covering everything around in a golden shimmer. Lotor smiles and steps closer, crouching down near Lance. “So that’s why you said it was the best time for garden viewing,” he says, looking at him. Lance nods, rolling his eyes while pointing up. “Yeah, but the light from the ships are screwing up with them. There’s lots of these flowers along the path too, but they only light up in the dark…” He looks at Lotor as he speaks. Lotor is observing the flowers, brushing a finger against a blade of grass covered in spores. Lance smiles. “You can do it too, you know.” He moves a hand as he speaks, mimicking the movement he had done to make the spores shoot out. “I just need to touch it?” asks Lotor, extending a hand towards a flower. He looks at Lance for confirmation. “Yeah. Not too hard, but not too light either. Like, don’t break it, but shake it.” He laughs, folding his arms on his knees. Lotor has a soft laugh, reaching for the flowers. He runs his hands through the stems, and multiple puffs of spores suddenly shoot up. Lance yelps, as one of the clouds get him in the face. Lotor burst into laughter, reaching for him. “Oh my, I’m sorry. It didn’t get you in the eyes, did it?”

“I don’t think so,” mumbles Lance, afraid to open his eyes and find out. “Wait,” says Lotor, softly, picking his face in his hands, rubbing gently his eyelids with his thumbs. Lance’s heart leaps in his chest and he feel his face going warm, but he manages to stay still. Aaaah… his hand really are soft. Like a silk scarf, caressing his face. Such hands… do they really belong to the Galra Emperor? How can such hands belong to a man who’s lived through war; so warm, silky and gentle…

“How is it?” asks Lotor’s voice and Lance breathes in slowly, before opening his eyes. His vision is blurred for a tick, but only because of the darkness they’re in. He blinks a few times, letting his pupils get used to it, then it focuses on Lotor’s face. The long, pale hair, speckled with golden spores, the pointed ears framing his sharp features. His eyelids are heavy, giving his eyes this ever-present calmness as his lips bear a genuine smile, so much more different than the one he shows in political meetings.

Lance smiles. “It’s good. Thank you.”

Lotor smiles back. “You’re welco-“   

He is cut off by Lance’s lips pressing on his, suddenly. The kiss is quick, clumsy, no more than a peck before the altean boy brings himself back, looking a bit surprised himself. “Oh, uh…” he begins, but Lotor cups his face with his hands again, drawing him closer to bring their lips together once more.

Lotor’s lips are soft, as soft if not softer than his hands – how is that possible? – and Lance can feel Lotor’s pulse, fast and constant, through his wrists laying against his jaw. Does it means Lotor can feel his crazy heartbeat too? Probably. He doesn’t care.

Lance grabs Lotor’s shirt, pulling himself closer. Their breath is warm, as warm as their flushed faces. They kiss once, then twice, then thrice, never apart more than a tick, only breathing in to come back for more. Lotor’s hand is in Lance’s silver hair, running his claws through the soft strands and Lance shivers.

He pulls back a little, finally taking time to breathe, suddenly aware of how out of breath he was. He opens his eyes, immediately meeting Lotor’s gaze. They breathe silently, still holding onto each other, for a tick. A smile slowly curves the corners of Lotor’s mouth and Lance can’t help but smile also, an uncontrollable giggle slipping out of his mouth. Soon they’re both chuckling, their foreheads pressed to one another, as if relieved of unspoked tensions. They’re left exhausted, sighing softly.

“Thank you, Lance,” comes Lotor’s voice, lower and deeper than usual. “For today.” Lance looks up in his eyes, then quickly look down. Lotor smiles softly. “I know you did all of this to better my reputation,” he continues, “and to lower tensions with the population.” Lance stares at his hands, silent. He makes his ring roll, pushing it with the ball of his thumb. Lotor brings his hand back to Lance’s cheek, whispering. “I’m grateful.”

Lance closes his eyes and sighs. “Yes, well… it wasn’t really my idea.” He opens his eyes, but still avoids Lotor’s. “Allura did it for me, in the beginning.”

“…did it for you?” Lotor sounds confused. The hand on Lance’s cheek slides down to cup his chin, lifting his face up to meet his eyes. Lance bites his lip. “Why did Allura need to do that?”

Lotor’s confusion is understandable. Someone who knows nothing of the Altean Royals might only wonder as to why the prince’s reputation needed help from the princess. Lance knows he has to tell him, even if his guts twist painfully at the thought. He had so many occasions to do so, but found himself unable to say it. Although he wasn’t sure why, at the time, now he knows. After that kiss… of course, its because of these feelings that he’d rather stay silent.

But no more.

He breathes in slowly and clenches his fists. His voice is a bit strained when he talks, as if he had to pry the words from his vocal cords. “King Alfor isn’t my father,” he begins, pausing for a moment, “and Allura isn’t my sister.”  He sees Lotor’s brows furrow, and can almost hear the cogs in his mind turning. Lance breathes in once more. “The truth is I… I’m Allura’s betrothed.”

Lotor freezes, eyes locked onto Lance’s face, as if to detect the lie. Lance’s voice diminishes as he speaks, slowly dying under that gaze. “We’re to be married at the end of the war, per King Alfor’s wish…”

The silence is heavy. Crushing. Terribly so.

He finally said it. He was so afraid Lotor’s affection for him would dissipate if he knew… His heart beats painfully. He stares at Lotor’s face, waiting for a reaction, while simultaneously dreading what he’ll find there. Lotor is impassible, for a dobash, seemingly shocked by the new information, but slowly furrow his brows again.

“I had thought,” he begins, “that Princess Allura and her knight, Shiro…” Lance has a little laugh, devoid of humor. “They are.” He smiles, a cold empty smile. Lotor opens his mouth, confused, but closes it, looking… sad.  Lance clenches his jaws. No, no, don’t make that face. He doesn’t want pity.

Lotor lowers his head, for a tick, then looks up, speaking softly. “I would never have guessed,” he says, looking Lance in the eye. “You and Allura look so much alike, I could have sworn you were siblings.” He has a little smile as he says it, trying to make light of the situation, but Lance winces, as if hurt. Lotor raises his eyebrows. “I’m sorry, I-“

“No,” interrupts Lance. “It’s alright. I guess I should also confess to that.” Lotor seems perplexed by his words. Lance pulls himself back from Lotor’s embrace, kneeling on the ground. He closes his eyes, silent. For a moment, Lotor doesn’t understand what is going on, but before he can ask, he finally notices.

Lance is… changing. His skin is shifting, like the sand brought up by an undercurrent in the sea, going from a pink undertone to a warm yellow, his tanned skin taking on a golden color. His hair is darkening quickly, from its roots out, the white hair turning into a rich brown color. When Lance finally opens his eyes again, Lotor finds that even his irises have darkened into a deeper blue. He stares in disbelief, completely forgetting, for an instant, about the Altean’s shapeshifting abilities.

Lance holds his gaze for a moment, then rolls his eyes. “I don’t have a drop of royal blood in me,” he says with a nervous laugh. “I’m just… a peasant with a big golden ring.” He raises his hand to show the ring he’s been fiddling with, a shaky smile on his lips. Lotor looks at the jewelry, with something akin to concern in his eyes. Lance let his hand fall back on his lap. He’s shaking.

He knows, now.

Lotor seems to be thinking, quiet. His gaze finds Lance’s before he speaks again. “I don’t understand,” he says. “Why… all of this?” He gets closer, also kneeling in front of Lance. “Why change your appearance? Why the need to better your reputation? Lance, who…”

_…are you?_ Lance almost could hear the unspoken words. He looks around, avoiding Lotor’s eyes. “It’s… it’s a long story.”

“Lance.” Lance shivers at that tone. Lotor’s hand is on his cheek again, delicate, bringing him back to face him. Lotor’s eyes are determined, yet… gentle. “I’m listening.” The way he said it was so kind, so calm, Lance can’t help but feel emotions well up in his chest. He takes in a shaky breath, then closes his eyes with a sigh.

“Okay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter! You'll notice that I've settled the story to be a 12 chapters one : I am really excited to bring you guys the rest of it! 
> 
> Also, did you guys watch season 7? :D I really enjoyed it! What are your thoughts?


	8. The guilt buried beneath

 

Lance closes his eyes, trying to sort his memories out. The roots run deep.

 

* * *

 

The room is dark and silent, the voices of the people in the hallway muffled by the heavy doors. A dim blue light comes from the head of the bed, where the holoscreens displaying health statuses are hovering. The frail man in the bed raises an arm slowly, stretching a grasping hand in the air, eyes looking nowhere.

“…Lance… Lance, boy…”

The young man gets off of his chair and steps closer quickly, taking the stretched hand into his, carefully wrapping his long fingers around to envelop it in their warmth. He’s wearing his blue night robe, silver hair ruffled as if roused from sleep. He sits on the side of the bed, spoking softly.

“I am here, my King.”  He looks at their hands to avoid looking at King Alfor’s face. The man has been withering away ever since he got wounded during Altea’s destruction. The Red Lion didn’t make it in time. The healing pods weren’t repaired fast enough either. The king suffered irreversible damages and death was inevitable.

Against all odds, he managed to live through two decapheebs, directing the construction of New Altea and piloting the Red Lion by projecting his mind into it; a feat that no other Paladin has managed yet. But ever since he’d finished the final plans for New Altea, his condition has been worsening fast, as if he finally let go of the only reason he survived. He’s skeletal, as pale as his silver hair, his face sunken in and all light lost to his eyes. Nothing’s left of the proud King he once was. Lance cannot stand to look at him this way.

“Lance…” says again the soft, raspy voice, and Lance tighten his grip on his hand. “Yes. It’s me, Lance. I am here,” he repeats, reassuring. The King takes a deep breath, relaxing. “Boy,” he says, “how is New Altea?” Lance nods his head slowly, trying to sound cheerful. “The construction is going swimmingly. More Olkari have arrived last quintant. They are looking into ways to bring back to life Altea’s vegetation. They think we might be able to preserve some.”

“Oh…” It sounded more like a breath than a voice, but it made Lance look up. The King is smiling. “Allura loves…” he says, slowly, “she loves the juniberries…” Lance feels his throat tighten and he avert his gaze to contain his emotion.

“She does.” He bites his lip. “I’ll make sure they try to bring the juniberries back.” His voice cracks a bit, but Alfor doesn’t seem to notice. He still smiles as thoughtfully, shaking his head a bit. “Such a good boy,” he mumbles to himself, his hand squeezing weakly Lance’s, “such a sweet, sweet boy…”

Lance’s adam’s apple quivers slightly, but he manages to keep a hold of himself. The king’s smile fades and Lance’s worries, for a moment, that his consciousness left again – in the past few quintants, the King has been in and out of sorts, rarely aware of his surroundings. He called on Lance late last night, but when the prince got to his room he had fell into another of his catatonic phases. Lance had waited in the chair since then, waited for his King to talk to him.

But Alfor was still with him, this time. He turns his head towards Lance, unseeing eyes open. “…make her happy, Lance… my Allura…” Lance’s chest hurt, as if a fist had taken a hold of his heart and squeezed tightly. He nods. “I will.” His voice is but a murmur.

“…she’s so strong… lost her mother too young… my beautiful… daughter…” The King mumbles again and Lance’s head drops low. He was so afraid this day would come. So afraid that King Alfor would leave them. And the anticipation of his death is cruelly playing with his nerves.

“Voltron,” says the King, suddenly, and Lance’s head shoots up. Alfor’s eyes are fixed on him, even though Lance knows he doesn’t really see him. “...Voltron is in good hands…” continues the King, squeezing Lance’s hand. “…that… Shiro… he is a good leader… He’ll take care of all of you, he’ll…” The King exhales painfully, grimacing slightly and Lances rises a bit, speaking rapidly. “Are you alright? Do you need some water?”

“No.” The King clings to his hands, tugging at him so he’d sit down again. “No. Lance… you must take my place… pilot the Red Lion.” Lance sits back down slowly, clenching his jaws, a pit in his stomach. “My King, I do not know if the Red Lion will accept anyone but you.” The King shakes his head. “It is… temperamental… and loyal… but he knows… true valor…”

Lance closes his eyes. He can’t imagine Voltron without Alfor. He can’t imagine someone else taming the Red Lion – especially not him. He’s nothing like the King. He can’t- “What about Blue?” he asks soflty, opening his eyes. “Bring all good soldiers to it… let them try and… connect with it… It will choose someone.” The King nods weakly. “It will choose someone… and the Elders are no longer… won’t have a say in the matter…” Lance’s whole body goes cold and stiff at the name. He can’t do this. He can’t fathom going to the Red Lion and trying to bond with it. He’ll take soldiers to it, let it decide amongst them. He’ll keep Blue. The King turn his head to him once more.

“Lance… my boy… I am so sorry…” Lance blinks and try to speak, but his throat is tight and his words won’t come. “…I should have… done more for you, I should…” continues the King, looking quite distressed. Lance take one of his hands back to pat his shoulder soothingly. “You’ve done so much for me, my King,” he manages to say, voice raspy.

He remembers all the dispositions the King took for him, how he made sure he was taken care of. He remembers the nights where Alfor, exhausted by the war, would still come find him in the gardens and sit by his side. He remembers their conversations, his encouraging words and paternal attentions. He smiled with confidence, a strong hand on his back, telling him how fine of a Prince he was becoming.

Lance squeeze his hand, pushing fragile strands of hair out of the King’s eyes. Alfor closes his eyes slowly, relaxing again. “You’ve done enough,” repeats Lance, so quiet that the King might have not heard him. The man breathes slowly, eyes closed, looking serene. Lance waits for a few dobashes, observing him, patiently waiting for a sign he was still conscious.

But the man was asleep. Lance breathes in deeply, rising to his feet before laying Alfor’s hand down on his side. One last glance and he turns to walk towards the door.

“…edding…”

Lance stops, turning his head around at the mumbling man.

“…beautiful wedding…” he continued, ”…how I wish I could… see her… smile…”

Lance doesn’t say anything, waiting, but the King is silent once more. He turns towards the door and press his hand to the opening mechanism. It slides open effortlessly, without a noise. On the other side, Coran, Allura and Shiro, all looking at him with worried expressions. They’ve probably been there since early this morning. Lance takes in their inquisitive eyes, then shakes his head. “He sleeps,” he answers to their silent question.

Allura walks to him and put a hand on his arm – Lance can’t help but notice Shiro’s arm slide off her shoulders, and feels some comfort knowing he’s there for her. Does Alfor know about Shiro and Allura? Would he even be able to understand, in his state, if she told him?

“What did he say?” asks Allura, softly. She looks up to him with big, watery blue eyes. He sighs. “He didn’t make much sense,” he says, painfully. “I think… I think he said his goodbyes.” Allura’s lip tremble and she steps closer, sliding her arms around his chest to hug him tight. He closes his arms around her, rubbing her back gently. “I’m here,” he murmurs. “Lance,” Allura looks up to him, eyebrows raised. “You’re allowed to cry.”

Lance blinks, staring at her, suddenly stiff. He had naturally responded to her actions to try and comfort her: after all, he’s been doing it a lot, lately. And he vowed to make her happy. But it didn’t occur to him that she might actually be trying to comfort _him_. “What?” he manages to ask, with difficulty. She raises her hands, taking his face gently. “You don’t have to hide it,” she continues, shaking her head slowly, a tear rolling down her cheek. “I’m here,” she says. “I’m here with you.”

Lance’s adam’s apple quivers again. His blue irises become blurry, deformed by the tears pooling rapidly in his eyes. A sob makes him bend forward, painful, making his throat burn. Allura’s hands are behind his head, now, dragging him to her, pressing his face in her shoulder. He grabs her arms, crying uncontrollably now. He didn’t want to go through this again.

“I can’t-“ he finally manages to say between two sobs. He presses his face in the fabric of Allura’s dress, muffling his voice. Allura buries her face in his silver hair. He feels the warmth of her own tears. “I know,” she says, simply, holding him tight. They cry, holding each other as if their life depends on it.

Long arms embrace them both, a comforting presence looming over them. “It’s alright,” comes Coran’s voice. “We’re all here.” Lance raises his head, slightly. Shiro’s also coming close, wrapping his strong arms around them all.

All of them, an orphaned family.

 

* * *

 

Deeper.

 

* * *

 

The darkness is suddenly cleared by the ceiling light. Light that quickly becomes unbearable, as a thunderous voice resonate in the room.

“Rise and shine, my prince! Another great day is starting in the Castle!”

Lance groans and feel around with flimsy arms to find his covers. He grabs them and quickly pulls them over his head, not even opening an eye to acknowledge Coran taking clothes out of his drawers. He seems undaunted by the prince’s lack of enthusiasm, speaking away while putting down the clothing at the foot of the bed.

“Today is starting with speech training with your delightfully handsome teacher – thaaat’s me – then there is a meeting in King Alfor’s chambers to look over the new plans – he says the docking areas are almost over now. He also contacted Olkari yesterday to have some input. Some team combat training is scheduled – gotta be able to form Voltron easily if we wish to defeat Zarkon! – and then you’ll be supervising the building efforts of Residential Dome number 4!” he lists cheerfully, without ever pausing to breathe. The lump under the covers hasn’t stirred at all during his speech. “Now, now, Prince Lance. You have to get up, the day isn’t waiting for you!”

As Lance still doesn’t move, Coran puts the clothes down on an end table before grabbing the covers to pull them off the bed with all the might and pizzazz of an entertainer. Lance sighs and roll on his back, opening his eyes to stare at the ceiling. Coran bends down over him, fists on his hips. “It’s not like you to be so reluctant to get up. What’s wrong?”

Lance looks to the side to avoid the redhead man’s stare and sighs again. “Nothing. I’m tired. Move, I can’t get up if you’re hovering above me,” he raises a hand to push Coran’s face away before sitting up. Lance rubs his eyes and rolls lazily his shoulders before noticing Coran’s glare.

“What? I’m getting up!” he defends himself, hunching his back. Coran twirls his mustache, turns and sits down on the side of the bed. “Lance,” he begins, with a concerned expression, “if you really don’t want to talk about it, I won’t insist, but you know that I’m here to listen, right?” A goofy smile lights up his face. “It’s basically my job! Among everything else,” he waves a dismissive hand, before tugging on his mustache with pride.

Lance doesn’t seem amused by the comment, only looks grumpily at the pile of clothes on the end table. The silence holds for a dobash, Coran waiting patiently for a refusal or a discussion. Lance finally looks back at him. “It’s Shiro,” he mumbles. Coran raises his eyebrows high. “What about him?” Lance doesn’t seem to know how to answer, looking up while rubbing his arm. Coran smiles gently. “He seems to be really happy of your efforts, lately. Just yesterday he complimented you on your skills when training! And he seemed really pleased when you gave that new Green Paladin some tips to bond with their Lion. Isn’t that great?”

“No it’s not!” snaps Lance, glaring at Coran. Coran opens wide eyes, surprised by the outburst. “He’s only being nice because he feels guilty and is trying to make it up to me!” he continues, throwing his hands up in frustration.

“Feeling guilty about what?”

Lance looks at Coran, suddenly aware of what he’d said, and pales. His eyes go all around the room, furiously thinking of what he could say to take back that slip, but he soon resigns himself and sigh once more. He presses his hands to his face, groaning. “I walked on him and Allura…” he says, finally, letting his hands fall back on his lap. “Kissing,” he adds, looking at Coran.

“Oh,” says the Royal Advisor, simply. They just stare blankly at each other for a tick. Lance frowns, then looks up in disbelief. “You knew about it!” Coran chuckles, looking apologetic. “I know everything that is going on in the Castle. I’m sorry, Lance.”

The Prince whines and lets himself fall backward on the bed, throwing an arm over his eyes. His face is red, burning in shame. He was getting all worked up over here, worried that he’d accidentally sullied Allura’s reputation! Turns out he just looked dense.

Coran pat his arm sympathetically. “Come on, Lance, don’t be shy. Go on. You think Shiro is praising you just because of that?”

“I know he is!” Lance doesn’t remove his arm from his face, content to hide away as he speaks. “You don’t get it, Coran, they both looked like they felt so bad when I walked on them… Allura was… I was sure she was gonna cry and- and I’d be damned if I ever make her cry so I assured them it was all okay, and I backed out of there, but ever since they’ve been acting so WEIRD with me!” He sighs in frustration, sliding his arm off his face to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Honestly, I’d rather have Shiro point out my mistakes than force himself to be nice to me.”

Lance open his eyes and looks at Coran, who looks at him with a caring smile. “Lance,” he begins in a gentle voice, “of course they feel guilty. You’re their friend and they care about you. And yes, they will probably be awkward for a while, figuring out what to do with their relationship. But Shiro isn’t the kind of person to give insincere compliments to others. Especially not to make up for his mistakes.”

Lance observe Coran, thinking. Well it… It’s true. Ever since Shiro’s arrival, now almost 8 pheebs back, he’s been nothing but honest and encouraging. Shiro’s coming was around the first anniversary of Altea’s destruction. The structure of domes that was about to become New Altea was slowly being latched unto the Castle of Lions and they were all exhausted of the building efforts. He offered to help without being asked. He comforted and inspired others when they needed it. And when the Black Lion reacted to him, rising for the first time in decapheebs, he rose to the challenge and pressure of being the leader of the team, when it would have been completely understandable for a man in his position to retire and leave the war to others. He’s a straightforward man, who isn’t good at lying even if he’d tried. And if he’s in… a relationship, with Allura, it must be because his feelings are sincere. And hers too.

Lance sighs. “I guess you’re right.” Coran smiles, eyes lighting up. “If you’re getting praise from Shiro, it means you _are_ doing good Lance. Don’t sell yourself short.” He pats his arm again. Lance gives him a pale smile, sitting up again. He looks at his ring, making it turn on his finger. “I guess,” he says, pensive, “I guess _I_ feel guilty.”

Coran frowns. “What for?”

Lance looks up, trying a smile. “That Allura is stuck with me.” He shrugs. “If I wasn’t there, she could be with Shiro without having to worry about me.” He didn’t really notice how close Shiro and Allura had gotten and, honestly, its only after seeing them kiss that he got acutely aware of how often he saw them together before and how Allura would blush when when he’d look at her… how it all made sense now. He was too dumb to see it coming. Or maybe its only because he’s never seen her in love before. That stings.

Coran frowns. “Lance. It was her choice. She decided herself to do this for you. And it’s because we all care about you. Don’t say things like that.”

Lance looks at the ceiling, breathing in slowly. “Okay,” he says, simply, his shoulders dropping. He turns to the side and finally get out of bed, to avoid Coran’s gaze. He sheds his night shirt to pick up the clothes Coran laid out for him, changing casually, hoping to end this conversation now. But Coran’s voice rises up once more.

“She loves you, you know. You’re family.”

Lance stops for a tick, holding garments in his hands. There was a time where he wanted Allura to fall in love with him. He was desperate for her to return his feelings. But, ironically, his own feelings faded when they got engaged. When he surprised her and Shiro, he wasn’t angry. Not at all. He was happy for her. But he did feel this insidious sadness seeping out of his heart, tinted in jealousy. But these feelings come from the past. This isn’t how it is now.

This isn’t who he is now.

“I love her too, Coran,” he replies, continuing to dress himself. “She’s my family. You all are.”

 

* * *

 

No. Deeper.

 

* * *

 

He should be happy. As the people are chatting, and eating and dancing, he knows he should be down there, partying too. He knows, but he also knows that Allura isn’t happy. And that she doesn’t want to dance.

She’s sitting right next to him, prim in her high winged seat, golden circlet atop of her silver hair, white and blue dress with heavy jewelry. She’s observing the dance with a caring smile, but the stiffness in her back tells another story. Lance is next to her, wearing a similar outfit, heavy white and blue fabric, golden circlet on his newly silver hair. On both of their hands, a golden ring.

This engagement wasn’t a surprise to them. The king explained himself plenty when he announced them his decision. And they understood his choice. Well, Lance thought he understood it, but he wasn’t quite sure anymore.

When Blaytz died, almost a decapheeb back now, Lance had been immediately pulled out of his class when knights came to fetch him. He was the new Blue Paladin and there was no time to lose. The Lion had already chosen him in the past and was still keen to him. In times of war, where soldiers keep falling, there is no time to be picky about their quality. Such was the reasoning of King Alfor, who trusted the Blue Lion to make its own decision on the matter.

But the Elders weren’t having it. Even though the Lions were a recent creation – the product of King Alfor’s alchemy and planet Daibezaal’s mysterious material – their first Paladins were chosen with care, leader of their people, brave warriors whose mere appearance was like a banner of hope for the Galaxy. When the Yellow Lion chose Hunk as its Paladin, the Elders were quick to recognise his value: a hero, braving the Empire to save a dear friend in danger. Truly an admirable story. But for Lance… For a baseborn teenager to be taken, a nobody – worse, the child of traitors – it was an insult to the memories of both Blaytz and Gyrgan.

The Elders were nobles, and had influence over both the Royals and the people, and soon the Capital became hostile to Lance. Rumors were going around, whispered in his wake; mean, distasteful, utterly false but thoroughly believed. Allura was appalled every time she’d hear one of the servants repeating those offensive words and was quick to defend her friend. She’s actually the one who got fed up with all of this, especially after Lance showed up to training with bruises he insisted were nothing. She went right to her father, requested for him to do something about it.

It took a few quintants for Alfor to decide what had to be done. It wasn’t a simple affaire. If the Elders were angered by Lance’s lack of status, the solution was to give him one. But a title that isn’t earned inspire no respect. The King couldn’t elevate Lance to nobility without reason, especially considering his history. He bounced ideas with Coran until it came to this.

A wedding. Putting forward Allura’s affection for the Blue Paladin and adopting him into royalty through an engagement. When Alfor told them, they were both shocked. The silence held for a while, and as the King started talking, Lance’s heart leapt in his chest, a blush creeping up his cheeks. He’s been attracted to Allura the moment he saw her, but never did he think he’d actually be allowed to entertain a relationship with her.   

But when he glanced at her, cheeks flushed, a timid smile on his lips, and saw her serious and determined expression, he was chilled. When she smiled and said “Yes, father”, his heart sank deep in his chest. Allura wasn’t phased by this. Not even flustered. She saw this as a duty, an opportunity to help his friend even if it meant sacrificing her right to chose – her right to love openly someone else. This was both a proof of how deeply she cared and loved Lance, and how little she considered ever falling in love with him.

She has the same caring, dutiful expression as she sits next to him, while their guests are dancing and drinking the night away, with King Alfor joining them, partaking in a too rare day off. Lance can’t help feeling guilt pooling in his stomach as he looks at her. He understands the reasoning of King Alfor. But he can’t understand why he’d bind his dear daughter in such an unfair political ploy. Is he really deserving of so much sacrifice from both of them?

He breathes in deeply, rising to his feet. He turns towards Allura quickly, so fast, in fact, that his heavy earrings swerve with the movement. He feels the cold stone tapping his jaws, the weight of them pulling on his fresh piercings. He’s never worn jewelry before.

Allura looks up to him, raising her eyebrows. Lance sighs. “I know you’re doing this for me…” he begins, sincere. “I won’t let you down. I will do my best to make it up to you. I swear I will,” he says, softly, “so…” He offers her a hand, a cheerful smile on his lips, hiding away all vulnerability. “Would you care for a dance?”

She looks at him in silence, her expression unreadable, then looks down to his hand. She rises slowly, pushing the arms of her chair as she does, then looks up at Lance’s face. He feels his smile waver a bit. She raises a hand, patting his head gently. A smile appears on her face.

“When did you get taller than me?”

Lance blinks, then chuckles. “I don’t know,” he replies, “I didn’t notice.” She smiles, patting his head a few times again, lost in thoughts, then let her hand fall. “Let’s go,” she says finally, taking his hand. She smiles. “I’ll teach you to dance. You must be awful.”

Lance blush. He, indeed, doesn’t know shit about dancing. But Allura’s hand is warm in his and he can’t be angry.

 

* * *

 

Deeper.

 

* * *

 

The quick steps and heavy breaths were heard all over the hall as Lance came rushing in. He had run to the Castle of Lion as soon as his tutor had relayed Allura’s message to him, didn’t even take the time to drop his bag in his room.

On the way, he was slowed down by all the celebrations; people joyously hooting into the air at the news of Balmera’s liberation. But Lance couldn’t cheer with them, he could only think of one thing, he could only think of Allura’s message.

_Hunk is at the Castle of Lion_.

Lance runs up the stairs and question a servant he knows on the way before sprinting again towards the room she stated Allura was in. He’s been coming often to the Castle, he knew the ways. He still doesn’t know how this friendship between Allura and him blossomed; he was a mess, an orphaned peasant boy with no manners and, still, she wanted to spend time with him. It must be because of the proximity: after all, he did spend a few pheebs at the castle, when she had no other kids to play with. She thought he was funny and interesting. And he thought she was funnier, and pretty, and kind and so out of his league.

He’s sweating abundantly when he reaches the indicated door, brown hair matted to his forehead, out of breath. He pushes on nevertheless, opening the sliding door from a press of his hand.

His eyes spot Allura’s silver curls at once. She turns to him and smile, his name forming on her lips. But he doesn’t hear it. He turns his head towards the other person in the room. Tall and wide, yellow pupil-less eyes, tattered clothes on his rocky brown skin. The balmeran stares at him for a tick, before jumping to his feet. “LANCE!” He runs to him, arms opened wide. “It’s you! It’s really you!” He grabs the teenage boy, squeezing the thin amount of air he managed to breathe in out of his lungs, lifting him from the ground.

“It’s so good to see you buddy! Oooh, it’s been so long! I thought you were dead!” He twirls around, Lance’s legs flailing, before putting the boy down. Lance almost lost his footing, dizzy, but Hunk’s strong grip held him up. “Oh, shoot, my bad. I’m sorry Lance, I’m just so happy,” he laughs, happy tears peaking at the corner of his eyes. He pats Lance’s shoulder, letting him go as he seems to have found his balance. Lance has a pale smile, trying to catch his breath. “You’re… big,” he manages to croak. Hunk raises an eyebrow. “Woah. Rude.” Lance wheezes a laugh. “No, I mean,” he takes a deep breath, “you grew up.” The Balmeran squares up, putting his hands on his hips. “Right? I’m way stronger too,” he adds, flexing with a determined look in his eyes.

“You… you’re the Paladin of the Yellow Lion?” Lance’s voice is full of reverence, observing his friend more closely. Everyone in town had heard the news: how Gyrgan’s Lion was suddenly active again, years after they heard news of his death. They all heard of the fight to free Balmera – information spreads fast in the Capital – and how the new Paladin was but a balmeran youngster – rumors spread just as fast as information, it seems.

And there he is. Hunk. His friend. The Yellow Paladin who saved his people. Lance feels guilt burning his throat as he notes the frayed clothes, the old scars on his thick skin… Hunk has lived through the enslavement of Balmera… Lived the day the Galra forces gained control of the planet’s weapons thanks to a secret code…  

Hunk laughs. “Yeah, it’s… it’s a weird story. I’ll tell you later.” Lance swallows with difficulty, showing a weak smile with a stiff nod. Hunk stares him down, smiling wide. “You grew up too, buddy!”

“I think he’s still small,” pipes up Allura, getting closer. She stands near Lance with a satisfied smirk, pointing out with a silent downward glance that she was still taller than him. Lance blush, his pride hurt. “I’ll grow! My dad was tall.” As he says that, his gaze falls down, a lump stuck in throat. He clenches his fists and looks up to the balmeran, suddenly. “Hunk, I-“

“Allura told me,” he cuts him, holding a clawed hand up. “Don’t you even dare say it.” His eyes are determined, his expression a reproach. Lance takes a reflexive step back, as if slapped, but Hunk grabs his arms, holding him still. “Lance, listen to me : it’s. not. your. fault.”

Lance’s face crumble, shock painted all over it. Hunk holds his gaze. “I’m not angry. I’d never blame you for that. It’s the Empire’s doing. They bragged about it on the first day their ships landed. You did nothing wrong.” He smiles, relaxing his grip a bit. “We’re friends, right?”

Lance can feel his face twisting, his eyes becoming damp. “Hunk…” His voice breaks and the balmeran pulls him into another suffocating hug. “Aw, c’mon buddy! Cheer up! Balmera is free! I have a friend you’d like – I can’t wait for you to meet her!” He pats his head rapidly, almost painfully so, and Lance can’t help but chuckle pitifully, throwing his arms around his friend. He can see Allura smiles happily through his tears-filled eyes and he sighs with a smile.

God, he’s so desperately in love.

 

* * *

 

Deeper. To the beginning.

 

* * *

 

Flipping pages slowly, the crinkle of the paper loud in the quiet room, the young girl keeps an eye on the sleeping figure on the bed next to her. She sighs, closing her book before slouching in her chair. She puts her cheek on her fist, throwing a bored glance around the room.

When she was entrusted with the boy, she was excited. She was curious and felt like she was finally trusted with an important task. But as the vargas and the quintants went by, she realised that it was just a way to keep her out of her father’s affairs. The boy has been sleeping away this whole time and this was becoming, quite frankly, the most boring chore she ever had to do. Even sewing with Coran now seemed like a peachy afternoon. 

She looks over to the bed, where the boy is curled up in the heavy blankets. His brown hair is ruffled, pointed ears peaking through, unmistakable altean markings branding his cheeks. He was found a few quintants back, lone passenger of a broken-down escape pod.

Altea had received a distress signal from Balmera. Too damaged and glitchy to be understandable, but a fleet was sent out at once. Impenetrable Galra defenses were met near the planet and half of the altean fleet was taken down before they could turn back. It’s on their way to Altea that the remainder of the rescue mission picked up the damaged pod, who had run out of fuel and almost of air.

The girl was there when the captain of the expedition told the tale to her father, but she was chased out before she could glean any more information. The boy was rushed to a healing pod, but he didn’t wake up even after receiving first aid. That is when the young girl was entrusted with the duty of vigil.

Suddenly, in his bed, the boy whines and moves slightly. The young girl straightens right away, heart leaping in her chest. Maybe this won’t be another boring day after all. She fixes her long silver hair quickly, then put her hands down on her lap, like a proper young lady. The boy rolls on his back and goes quiet again, as if returning to sleep, but his eyes open unexpectedly. He stares right at her, unmoving. She hesitates for a moment, wondering if she should say or do something. He then starts to look around, slowly, before coming back to her.

“Are you… a goddess?” he asks in a whisper, eyes full of stars. The young girl is taken by surprise and laughs, blushing rapidly. “What? No!”

“You’re very pretty,” adds the boy, in an even quieter whisper, blushing himself. The girl smiles. “Why, thank you. But I am no goddess. I’m a princess. My name is Allura. May I ask yours?”

The boy blinks, in awe, then slowly rises to a sitting position. His hair is unruly, full of cow-licks : he’s been sleeping for quite a while, so it is no surprise. He smiles, a wide smile that makes his light blue markings rise. “I’m Lance!”

For someone who’s been sleeping for so long, he seems full of energy. Allura smiles. “Nice to meet you, Lance.” The boy looks around the room once more – there is not much to see, only a bed, a chair and an empty desk – before frowning slightly.

“Where am I?” he asks, and Allura raises her hands. “You are in my home. We call it the Castle of Lions.” Lance opens wide eyes. “I’m in a castle?” Allura giggles. “Yes you are!” She can’t help but be entertained: she rarely has the chance to interact with someone her age. Well, almost her age: she’s a teen and he obviously is just a boy.

Lance seems delighted also, in a way that she couldn’t understand. The castle is usual to her, nothing to fawn over. Lance slides his legs out of the blankets. “Does the castle have kitchens?” Allura raises her eyebrows. “Yes, it does.” She smiles. “Are you hungry?” Lance jumps off the bed. “I’m starving!”

She laughs, getting to her feet also. “Then come with me!” They go out of the room into a wide white corridor. Lance looks all around with big curious eyes, and Allura looks at him in the same manner. She was getting very lonely in the castle, so he seems very interesting and new to her.

They turn at a corner and Lance stops suddenly in front of a window. “Woah!” He goes on the tip of his toes to look at the vegetation surrounding the castle outside: bright flowers, luscious trees, all bathed in the lights coming from the castle’s windows. Faraway, the lit windows of the houses of the Capital looks like golden stars, under the black sky. “Oh, oh! Look, Allura!” shouts the boy, pointing through the window. The princess comes to his side, curious of what got him so excited.

“You see those stars?” he says, “The ones at the tip of my finger?” She squints to look at the specks of light up above he’s referring to. “Yes?” she answers, perplexed. Lance smiles. “If you join them like this,” he says, tracing lines against the glass, “it forms the shape of a juniberry, right?” Allura seems uncertain for a while, but then her eyes snap wide open, sparkling. “Yes! I see it!” Lance smiles, proud. Allura looks at him. “I didn’t know about that constellation,” she says, surprised. Lance puts his hands on his hips. “My sister created it! She really likes flowers so she always makes up…” He trails off, looking suddenly confused. He turns his head around, slowly, staring at the empty hallway for a moment before looking back at Allura.

“Where’s my sister?” he asks, softly. Allura blinks, taken aback by the question. Lance frowns. “And my brothers? My parents?” He seems to be getting anxious, his confident stance crumpling, his eyes darting around as if to find his family. Allura quickly takes his hands in hers and smile, trying to be comforting. “I don’t know, but maybe my father knows. He’s the king! He knows everyone in the kingdom!”

Lance seems immediately relieved, smile returning to his face. “Really?” Allura nods vigorously. “Really! Come, we’ll go see him right now, okay? Then we’ll go to the kitchens!” Lance agrees, keeping Allura’s hand in his as he follows her in the long hallways.

It doesn’t take them long to reach the console room. Allura signs to Lance to be quiet, then silently and carefully pry the door ajar, peering into the chamber. Multiple people, aliens from different species, are standing in a circle, all looking at a holographic display of planets hovering in the center of the room. Looking grim, a white-haired man in a white armor listens to his comrades reporting. Allura sighs. “They’re not done, yet,” she whispers, turning to Lance. “We’ll have to come back later.”

But the boy is peering in the room with a big smile, stamping excitedly. He points the hologram. “Look Allura! It’s Balmera! My friend lives there!” Allura shushes him quickly, signing to lower his volume before looking back at the meeting. “You have friends on Balmera?” she asks, curious despite her eavesdropping. “Huh-uh,” says Lance with a nod. His smile is wide. “Mom and Dad, you know, they have a ship,” he says with a grin that easily conveys his pride, “we go to Balmera and we get those big crystals and we bring them back to Altea. My friend is really strong so sometimes he helps bring crystals to the ship – his name is Hunk!” Allura looks shocked. “Lance…” she starts, a certain sadness in her voice, but the boy is staring at the holomap, where multiple big ships have appeared. His smiles melt from his face. His breathing has quickened and a diffused fear has started creeping in his stomach.

He knows those ships. He can see, in his mind, the pink crosses of light flashing just before their arrival. He starts paying more attention to what is being said, inside the room. An alien with blue skin is pointing the ships, talking quickly.

“-and they have more on the other side. They’ve completely secured the area.”

“No weaknesses in their shield?” asks the man with white hair.

“Some,” confess a man wearing a yellow tunic, “but they got control over the planet’s defenses and repurposed their beams for offensive manoeuvres. If a small craft manages to go through the battlecruisers and get near the surface, the lasers are sure to shoot them down.”

“If they got into Balmera’s weaponry,” pipes up a woman with green skin, “it means they had the access codes.”

_The access codes_. Lance shudders. He remembers. He remembers the deep, scary voice asking about the access codes. He remembers their ship’s alarm blaring, and the sentries walking in, and his mom grabbing them to hide them behind her and dad-

“My king,” comes an altean man with bright red hair tied in a ponytail, “if they had the codes… we might have a traitor in our ranks.” He fidgets with his mustache, looking grim.

The white-haired man sighs – the king! – and shakes his head. “I don’t want to believe it, Coran. I don’t think anyone would tell the codes to the Galra.”

_The codes!_

“It’s my fault!”

“Lance!”

All heads turn towards the door, startled, as Lance slips past them and runs into the room, escaping Allura’s grip. His face is streamed with tears, his breath panicky. He runs to the king, sobbing furiously.

“It’s my fault! Mom didn’t mean to!” he cries, fists clenched. The king kneels down quickly, grabbing his wrists, shushing softly. “Hey now, calm down…”

“The big man! He hurt dad!” continues Lance, shaking his arms out of the king’s grip. He remembers now. He remembers the lurch with which their ship stopped, caught in the battlecruiser’s tractor beam. He remembers the sentries walking in, he remembers his dad pulling out a blaster – Lance didn’t even know he had a blaster – and firing away at the Galra general who walked in. His mom’s hand was on his eyes, just a tick, but when he pulled himself out of her grip, dad was on the floor, and there was blood _everywhere_.

“I tried- I wanted-“ he stutters, gasping for air. The king puts his hands on the boy’s shoulders. “Breathe, boy. Calm down. You are safe.” Lance sobs, shaking his head wildly. “It’s because of me!” he screams again, throat hurt by the force of it.

He ran at the scary man. He didn’t even think and just hauled himself against his leg, pounding away on his armor with his fists. He could hear mom screaming his name, he could hear the gasps and sobs of his siblings. The general kicked him in the stomach and he couldn’t breathe. He was crushed under his feet and his mom was screaming. “If you hurt him,” she said, “if you hurt him I’ll _never_ tell you.”

“She told because of me,” he cries, calmer, as if all energy left his body. “He promised- he promised to let us go-“

He remembers being shoved in the escape pod. He remembers his mom’s screams to his brothers to get in another pod, as she ran back trying to pick dad from the floor. He remembers the violent shake of the ship and being smashed in the side of the pod as it went off unexpectedly. He remembers screaming, hands pressed to the small porthole of the narrow pod, seeing the ship – his father’s ship, their ship – getting increasingly smaller.

And suddenly he remembers the ray of light, the ray of pure pink light from the battlecruiser, hitting the ship full force and the flames belching out.

Flames in the void of space.

“Shh, calm down. You are safe, boy,” continues the king, soothing, trying to get him in his comforting embrace. Lance takes shallow breaths, looking up and noticing, for the first time, all the eyes on him. He sees Allura’s face, shocked and terrified. He sees the holographic Balmera, surrounded by big scary ships. All those people, who knows its his fault that-

He starts to struggle against the arms of the king. “It’s okay, boy, it’s-“ says the king, softly, but Lance slips out of his grasp. He stumbles on the ground, then darts towards the door, like a frightened animal fleeing his predators. He hears Allura calling his name, but he doesn’t stop, running aimlessly in the Castle. Startled servants get out of his way, worried voices calling after him. He doesn’t know where he is going, he just wants to run away.

But then, a voice. Not quite a voice, actually, more like a presence, a feeling. Lance slows down, coming to a stop in the middle of the hallway. He looks around, sniffling, looking for the way the voice had came to him. Then he felt it again, and he started walking in that direction. He went up and up and up until he happened upon a gigantic room, housing a giant blue cat. The boy wiped his face on his sleeve and looked up at it. The cat’s eyes shined, and it bent forward, opening its mouth as if inviting him inside. Lance walked in, sitting upon a big chair. The lion closed shut again and something like a purr was heard. It felt warm. And safe. And Lance curled up in a ball and closed his eyes.

Almost a varga had gone by when the console room’s party found their way to the Blue Lion’s hangar. The blue-skinned alien walked forward, putting his hand against the shield raised around the robot.

“And you’re sure he’s inside, Blaytz?” asks the man clad in yellow.

“We’ll find out,” replies the blue man. But the shield isn’t going down. Wearing a suave smile, Blaytz put his free hand to his chest. “Come on, Blue. It’s me. Open up.” The shield stays put. Everybody stares in confusion.

Blaytz lets his fake smile go, speaking softly to the Lion. “We won’t hurt the boy. I promise. We want to help him.” A tick goes by, where everyone is stiff and silent, but the shield dissipates slowly, the lion crouching down to let its Paladin inside. A few ticks later, Blaytz comes back with the sleeping child in his arms.

“The Blue Lion has chosen him,” says the king, looking curiously at the boy. Blaytz laugh, cradling Lance against his shoulder. “Well! We know who my successor’s going to be, right?”

 

* * *

 

The roots take hold of the heart and blooms solitudes.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter didn't bum you out. I swear it gets better!
> 
> Also I want to thank season 7 for finally giving me the altean word for month and the confirmation that decapheeb means year.


	9. Embrace the night

Sitting in the garden, golden shimmers all around them, Lotor and Lance keep silent for a long moment. Lance is staring at his hands, while putting his memories in order. He never really had to explain this whole situation to someone before. He’s always been surrounded by people aware of his status and relationship to Allura. Or, at least, people nosy enough to find out by themselves – never had to say a thing to Keith, that snooping bastard.

Lance breathes in, looking up at Lotor with a determined expression. He’s ready. Lotor perks up, attentive, his arms set on his crossed legs. Lance puts his hands on his knees, straightening his back. His voice trembles no more as he speaks, slow and clear. “My parents were transporters. They were tasked with the handling of balmeran crystals, mostly small-ship class. We were one of the few Altean ships to make regular and frequent runs in between our planets and my parents were entrusted with sensitive information.” He raises a hand, holding his fingers up as he speaks. “They knew balmeran instalments, maps of the tunnels, location of battle-class crystals, and they had the codes to the planet’s defensive system – they were built by Altea at the beginning of the war and they had to supervise it for a while.”

Lotor’s mouth opens, his eyebrows shooting up. “The fall of Balmera,” he says, the gears suddenly fitting with each other in his mind. “Were your parents… the source of the codes?”

Lance’s jaws tighten. “So you’ve heard of it?”

Lotor nods. “I’d assume most Galra know of it. It was a turning point in the war. Provided power supplies to the Empire, while depriving its enemies of it. I recall General Kermor got high praise from my father.” Lotor frowns, shaking his head while looking at Lance. “Lance, I’m sorry-“

“I stayed at the Castle for a few pheebs,” cuts Lance, not allowing Lotor to say any more. Lotor seems surprised, but closes his mouth. His eyes show sympathy as he listens on. “Until they could gather enough of my memories to understand what had happened,” Lance concludes. He remembers the device, how it produced an hologram that looked like him, but was able to say the things he couldn’t get out of his head.

“You were there?”

Lance looks up when he hears Lotor’s question, emitting an enquiring “Hm?” Lotor still looks at him with that sad expression. “You were in the ship when Kermor…?” Lance looks at Lotor’s face – he can see worry on his traits – then wet his lips. “Yes,” he says, “we always travelled as a family.”

Lotor shakes his head slightly, as if trying to remember old memories as well. “But… Kermor said there were no survivors.”

“There was one.”

Lotor looks up. A heavy silence falls on them. Lotor breathes in slowly, taking in the new information. Then, slowly, he reaches for Lance’s hand.

“Don’t,” protests Lance, weakly, but he doesn’t move his hand away. Lotor’s soft and warm palm covers his hand, squeezing it slightly.

Lance breath is shaky and he looks up so that his burning eyes won’t fill with water. He steadies his voice before continuing. “Allura and I met at that time.” He clears his throat, looking back at Lotor with dry eyes. “King Alfor was a good man. He arranged for me to live in a pensionary in the Capital. I’ve lived and studied there until Blaytz died.”

“The Blue Paladin.” Lotor nods to show he’s paying attention. Lance guess he probably has heard the name from his father: Zarkon and Blaytz were also friends in the past, after all.

“Yes. When he died, I was moved to a dorm near the Castle to train and become the new Blue Paladin.” He pauses. He quite liked these dorms, at first. Knights lived there, so there was always noise and voices and someone friendly to talk to. Well, in the beginning, at least… He sighs.

“There existed, in Altea, a council of Elders, who would advise the King on the right actions to take, as well as relay to him the concerns of the people.”

Lotor nods slightly, still listening, although his eyebrows are furrowed. Lance continues. “The Elders were against my nomination as Blue Paladin, because of my young age, my birth status and… my lineage.” He clears his throat, feeling it tighten slightly at the words. “And so, I was accommodated; by being engaged to Allura, I was granted both a high rank and the trust of the kingdom, and the Elders couldn’t protest anymore.”

It was said quickly, almost as if he wanted to get rid of the story. He glances at Lotor before letting his head down once more, touching the golden ring on his finger.

“I don’t understand,” comes Lotor’s voice. Lance looks up. “Why go as far as an engagement? The Lions are able to choose any given person to pilot them, aren’t they?” It’s obvious Lotor asks this without any ill intent, but the words still sting Lance. “Yes, they can. But in time of war, to not use the most easily accessible soldier…” he says, half-heartedly. He’s heard that speech often. Lotor shakes his head. “If there was such strong opposition, the most logical course of action would have had been to try and find a new Paladin. If none would have fitted, it could also have proven your legitimacy. I can’t fathom why a King would marry off his daughter in such a political strategy-“

“I-its only because Allura is my friend,” Lance defends quickly, his convictions wavering a bit. What Lotor just said all sound very logical, so why did Alfor…? “She’s,” tries Lance, “the one who asked Alfor to-“

“So it’s about love, then?”

Lance snaps his head up to look at Lotor, shocked by the question. Well, not so much by the question than by the tone of it: did Lotor sound irritated, just now? His face is indecipherable, so it’s hard to tell. Lance isn’t sure why, but his heart beats faster. He shakes his head, looking at Lotor’s face.

“No… no its not. She’s my friend, we’ve been friends for a long time. She’s… she’s in love with Shiro.”

“What about you?”

“Me?”

“Do you love her?”

Oh. His heart leapt again. Lance’s cheeks flush and he bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from smiling.

Lotor is jealous. He’s so obviously jealous, Lance can’t help but feel happy about it.

So, this is what it feels like to have someone be jealous over you? It never happened before. He’s always been the one caring about someone else, be it Allura or the few people he had crushes on. It feels… kind of nice. But also, kind of bad. He shakes his head, and turns his hand around under Lotor’s to squeeze his fingers.

“She’s family,” he says softly, looking him in the eye. “The way I care about her is different than the way I care about you.”

“Ah.” Lotor’s face colors rapidly, his lilac skin turning a dark shade of purple up to his ears. He puts his free hand to his mouth, as if thinking, but is visibly only trying to hide his embarrassment. How adorable. Lance smiles now. So much teasing potential!

He laces his fingers with Lotor’s, squeezing his hand again, a grin on his face. “Was this all you wanted to know?” he asks in the most innocent tone he can muster, bending forward to look at Lotor’s face.

“Huh? Right, huh…” Lotor clears his throat, regaining his composure. “What about… your appearance, why…?” Lance shrugs. “So I’d blend in the royal family more easily. It was Coran’s idea. People who didn’t know me could understand the filiation with a glance.” Lotor blinks.

“Is that so…” Lotor becomes silent again, looking at Lance.  He seems pensive, scrutinizing his face, before bringing his free hand up to scoop his cheek. Lance lets him do it, raising his eyebrows slightly. Lotor rubs his thumb on Lance’s blue altean marking, letting it slide down before brushing the long strand of brown hair near his ear.

“It seems like such a waste, somehow,” he says, slowly, sliding his hand to the back of Lance’s head to run his fingers through his hair, “that you never show this side of you.” Lance shivers to the touch – or was it because of the compliment? He smiles, shy but happy, before looking down to their intertwined hands.

“…what should we do now?” asks Lance, hesitant. He feels Lotor stiffens a bit. It’s only natural: he just learned he might have started an illicit relationship with the betrothed of a political ally. This surely isn’t the way he’d pictured his interaction with the Space Alliance.

Lance waits, drawing small circles on Lotor’s knuckle with his index finger. “We should go back to the Castle,” finally says Lotor. Lance closes his eyes as he feels Lotor’s hand lift from the back of his head. Lotor gets up, then pulls on Lance’s hand to help him do so too. Lance opens his eyes and rises, before patting his tunic straight.

He looks at Lotor and open his mouth, but nothing comes to his mind and he closes it again. Lotor has a small smile. “Just let me think a bit.” Lance nods, that smile softening a bit the anxious knots in his stomach, and they both slip past the tree and bushes to get back on the path.

The way back to the Castle is silent, as they walk side by side through the residential areas. Their arms brush against each other’s, their finger briefly hooking together when they’re near, but they do not hold hands again, silently aware of the people they pass on the path. It still makes Lance’s heart jump every time they touch.  

It’s only on the last bridge that Lance notices his still dark hair and golden skin tone as he catches a glimpse of himself in the reflective surface of the glass. “Ah, wait,” he says, stopping and closing his eyes.

But before he could concentrate on shifting his appearance again, Lotor grabs his shoulder. Lance blinks and looks up to him, confused. “Don’t,” says Lotor, pensive. “Not yet. Please.”

Lance breathes in, uncertain how that demand makes him feel. Is it good? Is it bad? Does Lotor need the visual reminder of Lance’s social status? Does he prefer his hair dark? This is getting nerve-wracking. He nods, uncertain, but Lotor seems satisfied and lets go of him, climbing the large steps of the bridge up to the Castle’s doors.

Luckily, they do not meet any servants inside – they must all be back to their beds, at this time – and Lance does not have to explain his appearance. This is… more stressful than he thought. He hasn’t turned back to his natural appearance even once since the engagement and he realizes now how accustomed he had gotten to his princely guise. So much so that he feels odd, walking around the palace’s corridors looking like a commoner.

He didn’t really notice where they were going until they stopped in front of his room’s door. Lance blinks, uncertain if he walked here out of habit or if following Lotor’s lead brought him there. He turns to Lotor, trying to think quickly of what to say, but finds himself at a loss for words when he meets his gaze.

Lotor is staring at him, with a pensive look on his face. Lance looks up at him, silent, and Lotor blinks, as if only now aware that they had stopped walking.

“Ah, this is… your room, isn’t it?” he asks, looking around to situate himself. Lance nods, a smirk pulling his lips up. “Yeah.” His smile fades right away: he’s too nervous to even pretend. His heart is beating hard and he can’t keep his eyes off Lotor. Has he been thinking long enough? Has he decided something?

Lotor raises his arms, running his fingers in his white hair to pull them back. A small sigh escapes him as he looks down at Lance. Lance feels his heart stop. Lotor’s lips part, but it takes a second before he begins to speak. “No matter how we look at this,” he says, slowly, “this is a bad idea.”

Lance feels his heart sink. His adam’s apple quivers slightly, but his face stays stoic. Oh. Lotor stares at him. “I’m in a… precarious position and you…” he adds, quieter, as he raises a hand, brushing a knuckle against Lance’s marking.

Lance bites his lip. So this is it, then. One evening. And tomorrow it’ll all be forgotten.

He raises his hands, grabbing Lotor’s face and pulls it towards him as he goes on the tip of his feet. Their faces crash against each other and their lips are crushed between the hard surface of their teeth. “Ouch!” They both wince and draw back, but Lance isn’t letting go of Lotor’s face. “S-sorry-“ he stutters quickly, pressing his lips to Lotor’s again, gently this time.

“Lance-“ Lotor tries to speak against Lance’s mouth, but Lance just part his lips, brushing his tongue against Lotor’s mouth. “-ance, wai-“ Lotor grabs Lance’s wrists, pulling his hands down with frightening ease and pushing him back slightly in the same, rushed motion. “Lance, listen!”

They’re both staring at each other, trying to catch their breath. Lotor’s long hair got ruffled, strands falling on his face. Lance feels shame burning his throat: he must look desperate.

Surprisingly, a small smile appears on Lotor’s lips. “You should let people finish talking,” he says, “before jumping to conclusions.” He softens his grip on Lance’s arms to slide his hand into his, dragging him back towards him. “We aren’t in a situation where it’d be smart to entertain this relationship,” he then states slowly, insisting on every word as if speaking to a child, “but I’m willing to risk it.” Lotor brings Lance’s hands up to his face and places a kiss on his knuckles, looking at him for an answer.

Lance stares at Lotor for a tick, face reddening, then he suddenly takes back his hands to hit Lotor’s chest with a fist. “Ow-“ Lotor steps back, surprised. Even though it didn’t really hurt – the punch was obviously restrained – he rubs a hand on his chest before Lance hits him again, on the arm, this time. “You IDIOT,” bursts Lance, angry, “you should have said so right away! Don’t start with the bad part of it, you-“  

“Okay, okay-“ Lotor blinks and tries to grab Lance’s arms again to stop his half-hearted pounding. It is not hard to do, as Lance’s seems to have exhausted himself with emotions and, once caught, just let his head plop down on Lotor’s shoulder. He mumbles, close to him. “My heart stopped, like, a thousand times, you prick…”

Lotor can’t help but laugh softly, cocking his head to the side to try and look at Lance’s face. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, placing a soft kiss on his cheek. “Next time I’ll start with the good news first.”

“You better,” replies Lance, raising his head to look him in the eye. He lifts his chin up, half-closing his eyes. Lotor understands the silent request in the motion and press his lips against Lance’s. He lets go of Lance’s arms to take his waist, bringing him in his embrace. Lance raises his arms to push Lotor’s hair back, fixing the loose strands that had fallen out of place. Lotor’s ears twitches when Lance’s fingers brush against them and Lotor draws back to look at him with heavy lidded eyes.

“We shouldn’t embrace this way in such a public place,” he says, with an amused tone. Lance blinks, feeling a burst of stress spread through his veins, then chuckles nervously: he finally understands Allura and Shiro.

He peels himself out of Lotor’s arms and press his hand to his room’s panel, the door sliding open with a soft hiss. “Come in,” he says, grabbing Lotor’s arm with a smile. He drags him inside and closes the door with a reflexive brush of his fingers against the inside panel.   

He can’t look at anything else than Lotor, in front of him. Wow. Lotor is in his room. Lotor is returning his feelings, and is standing in his room. Right now. For real. This seems like such a crazy and impossible thing to him, suddenly. He feels all the fear and awkwardness melt away from his mind and he can’t help but smile like an idiot.

“Come on,” he says, pushing Lotor’s chest so that he walks backwards. “What?” Lotor asks, blinking, a confused expression on his face, but a bemused smile on his lips. “Come on, come on,” insists Lance, walking quickly and pushing Lotor until his long legs hit the side of the bed and the push forces him to sit down – well, technically _fall_ down.

Lotor barely has the time to prop his arms on the mattress to balance himself that Lance gets on too, straddling himself on Lotor’s lap. Still full smile, he puts his hands on Lotor’s shoulders, pressing their lips together once more. Lotor responds to the kiss, closing his eyes, propping his arms closer to him to straighten his back.

“My, aren’t you getting bold?” he murmurs against Lance’s lips. Lance laughs. “I’m bold. I’m super bold. Bold is my middle name.”

“I thought Danger was your middle name,” replies Lotor, raising an eyebrow. He’s probably remembering the time Lance said so while they trained – he, himself, heard the expression from Shiro. Lance shrugs. “I’ve got lots of middle names.” One of his hands slide up Lotor’s shoulder to his neck, before cupping the back of his head, digging his fingers in his hair. Lotor smiles. “Seems I have lots of things to learn about you still.”

Lance wiggles his eyebrows, with his most mysterious smile before chuckling softly and bending over to kiss Lotor again. If the kisses where quite light at first, the heat slowly builds up between them, flushing their faces, pulling them closer. Lotor slowly straightens himself to put a hand on Lance’s thigh and curl his other arm around his waist.

Soon, Lance’s breath becomes heavy and he brings his hand up to take Lotor’s chin, pushing it upward so he’d bend his head backwards. He stares at his face for a tick, trying to catch his breath. Lotor looks at him through his pale eyelashes, smiling. “What are you thinking?”

“You’re beautiful,” Lance replies, between two breaths. “I am?” Lance nods, humming an agreement before bending to slowly place kisses on Lotor’s features : the defined curve of his cheekbone, the dip of his nose, his white arched eyebrow, the exposed skin of his forehead, his soft, closed eyelid, the corner of his smile and the sharp edge of his jaw. All of these, finally within his reach.

Finally offered to him.

Lotor lets a long breath out, the warmth of it making Lance’s ear tingle. He lifts his head to nuzzle into Lance’s neck, pressing his lips to his quick pulse. Lance shivers, tightening his grip on Lotor’s white locks of hair. Lotor rubs Lance’s thigh slowly, opening up his mouth to nibble at his dark skin with his – albeit small – unmistakable galran fangs. Lance’s breath quickens and he licks his lips as he slips his free hand between them, running his fingers down Lotor’s torso, feeling his form through the black fabric.

Lotor head rise, taking a quick breath. “Let’s get this off,” he says rapidly, letting go of Lance to grab the rim of his shirt, trying to pull it up. Emphasis on _trying_ ; the shirt is somehow too tight and he seems unable to pull it up past his ribcage. Lance can’t help but burst into laughter at Lotor’s confused expression. “You have to loosen the strings,” he says, letting go of Lotor’s hair to bring his hand up front, nimble fingers working fast on the laced parts of the clothing.

He smirks, speaking in a mocking tone. “What a shock; the Emperor can’t even undress by himself!” Lotor raises his eyebrows and chuckles. “Well, if it means I’ll get you to do it for me, then it can’t be so bad…” He presses his lips to Lance’s as the prince finishes loosening the last of the laces. Lance fumbles with the fabric, too busy responding to the kiss to efficiently remove Lotor’s shirt. Lotor’s laugh is muffled by their lips as he helps him out, their kiss briefly interrupted by the clothing passing in between their faces.

The black shirt is quickly discarded, Lotor coming back for Lance’s lips, but Lance moves his head back, avoiding him. “Wait, wait, wait-“ he says quickly, taking Lotor’s shoulders to push him back gently. “What is it?” Lotor seems worried for a moment, but becomes confused instead when he sees Lance’s starry eyes. “I want to look at you,” Lance replies, full of mischievous curiosity. His hands slither down Lotor’s chest, fingers tracing the multiple scars on the purple skin. Long ones, thin ones, pale ones, thick ones; a history of fighting splayed over his lean body. A timeline of the war. Lance would feel a tinge of sadness if he wasn’t so incredibly aroused by touching them. His hands settle just above Lotor’s belt, rounding his hips to follow the line of his muscles. His skin is _so damn soft_.

Lotor grabs him with one arm and suddenly rolls them over. Lance yelps in surprise, but his back safely sinks into the mattress as Lotor looms over him, long hair falling all around their faces like heavy curtains. “You’re overestimating my patience,” he says in a low voice, almost a growl, and Lance feels an old familiar heat pooling in his stomach. Lotor drapes himself over Lance, his body covering his lithe frame as he covers his mouth with his. Lance moans to the weight of him, then inhale sharply as he feels a warm shape pressed against his groin.

Lotor is as excited as he is, it seems.

Lance wants to grind up against Lotor, but his legs are dangling off the side of the bed and he has no way to prop his feet to raise his hips. He wiggles uselessly under Lotor, trying to use his shoulders as leverage, but fails. He whimpers in frustration against Lotor’s lips and Lotor laugh, raising his head to look at Lance as he grinds their erections together.

“Ah!” Lance blush, surprised by his clear, unrestrained moan, as Lotor’s smile goes wide. “Is this what you tried to do?” he asks in a husky voice, grinding slowly into Lance. “H-huh-uh,” manages to answer Lance through the hand he clasped over his mouth, his other hand clenching Lotor’s shoulder. Lance takes a deep breath to steady his voice as he removes his hand from his face, looking the other in the eye. “Let me move back a bit,” he asks, rolling his own shoulders to try and pull himself up slightly. Lotor raises an eyebrow, grinning. “Should I, now…” he whispers, running a hand down Lance’s tunic. He’s pinning him down with his hips, as his claws grab the rim of Lance’s pants, soft fingers brushing against his skin. “I quite enjoy having you caught this way,” he muses and Lance lets out a shaky breath, looking at him with feverish eyes.

But they suddenly snap wide open. “Ah, quiznak!” He rises on his elbows quickly. A bit too fast in fact, because the top of his head almost hit Lotor square in the chin – but the galra has incredible reflexes and he gets out of the way. “Woah! Are you okay?”

“No. I mean, yes, I’m fine, it’s just- ah, quiznak, let me get up-“ Lance seems irritated and pouty at the same time, getting on his hands to sit up. Lotor obediently rolls to the side, sitting on the bed to Lance’s left, looking at him in confusion. Lance gets off the bed and walks quickly towards the door. “I’ll be back soon!” he says as he walks. Lotor blinks, before getting up as well. “Wait, what? Where are you going?”

“Nowhere!” Lance’s face is red as he turns to Lotor. “No, don’t come here, go back there-“ he puts his hands flat on his torso, pushing him back towards the bed. Lotor grabs his hand, worried. “What do you mean? If I did something wrong, I-“

“No, no, no,” Lance shakes his head. “Nothing wrong, I just need a minute-“

“Right now? What is going on?”

“I- I don’t have any oils,” confess Lance, speaking fast, “so sit tight, I’m going to the kitchens and I’ll be back.”

Lotor’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “You want to-?“ he begins, before frowning in confusion again. “From the _kitchens_? What kind of oil have you been using?”

Lance’s mouth opens and closes as he turns crimson from head to toes. “I don’t have any fancy lotions, okay?” he blunders, clearly embarrassed. Curse his baseborn origins! He was a very poor and curious teen and worked with what he had access to at the time and its been a while and quiznak he must look like such an idiot!

Lotor seems to hesitate, then sigh. “Alright,” he says, turning around to look for his shirt. “Let me go to my quarters, I’ll bring some,” he continues, pulling the black shirt over his head. Lance blinks, looking at him. “You have some?”

“Yes.”

“In your quarters? Right now?”

“Yes,” answers Lotor again, now going towards the door, the shirt drooping loosely from his shoulders. Lance speeds up and slides in between him and the exit. “Have you… been using it?”

Lotor looks at him with a raised eyebrow, then smirk. “If you’re asking if I have a paramour, the answer is no.” He looks up, pensive. “Well, I guess I do, now.” He smiles deviously at Lance, but does not get the embarrassed reaction he was expecting: rather, Lance’s eyes are lit by a mischievous flame. “Then what _have_ you been using it for?”

Lotor’s face stays stoic, but his cheeks and ears turn a deep red through the purple skin. Lance open wide eyes, his grin impossible to contain. “Did you masturbate?” he asks in a whisper, falsely shocked hands raised to his mouth, not at all hiding his pleasure. “Oh my stars, have the serious Prince Lotor been indulging in solitary pleasures in between diplomatic reunions?”

“Stop it,” hiss Lotor, with that irritated expression Lance now recognize as his pouty face. “This is one _mundane_ activity I did not expect our Lord Lotor to-“ continues Lance fanning himself with one hand in an imitation of a fair maiden, but he’s cut short by Lotor’s lips smothering him. Lance giggle happily, holding the back of Lotor’s head to better respond to his kiss, not at all displeased by the interruption of his bit; but he _is_ going to bring this up again someday, just you wait, Lotor.

“Do you want the lotion or not?” Lotor grumbles in his ear, nibbling his jaw with his sharp teeth. “Yes please~” hums Lance, happily. “Then wait a bit,” Lotor says, pecking Lance’s cheek. He takes Lance’s shoulder to drive him out of the way, then goes to touch the wall-panel, but is caught by Lance’s hand.

“Wait!”

“What?!”

“You can’t go out like this,” answers Lance, biting his lip. “Like what?” asks Lotor before following Lance’s gaze and discovering, to his dismay, that the fabric of his new pants is quite revealing of his state.

“Ah.”

“Hm.”

“This wouldn’t be so visible if I was wearing my armor.”

“Well, _excuuuuse_ me, I wasn’t thinking of _this_ when I brought you to the tailor’s.”

Lotor laughs, licking his lips while thinking. Lance puts a hand to Lotor’s stomach and pushes him slightly against the door. Lotor looks at him, a small smile on his lips. “You like pushing me around, don’t you?” he asks, amused. Lance face is flushed, his hand going down to grab the waist of Lotor’s pants.

“I’ll take care of it.”

“…you’ll what?” asks Lotor, uncertain if he understood quite correctly, but Lance suddenly kneels in front of him, tugging his black pants down. Lotor grabs Lance’s hand, inhaling sharply as his erection is bared, uncertain if he wants to stop him or not. But Lance’s rapid fingers and his warm breath against his skin makes him shudder and leans heavily on the door behind him.

Lance himself seems surprised by his actions. This really was an impulse he was unable to suppress: he suddenly became aware of how _easy_ it would be to touch Lotor, right now, and how much he seemed to want to be touched.

His fingers run along the shaft, caressing it briefly before wrapping around it. His breathing is rapid and he can’t help looking up at Lotor as he brings his lips to the side of his dick. Lotor’s eyes are dark, his hand letting go of Lance’s to slide up his shoulder, nestling on his neck. Lance smile, emboldened by the gesture, and he runs his tongue along the length, closing his lips on the head.

He hears Lotor’s soft moan, his hissing breaths. Lance was worried he was too rusty for this, but Lotor’s hand reaching for his hair tell him otherwise. He glances up to see that he closed his eyes, head slumped forward, his hair hiding his face in shadows.

Lance pushes his free hand up Lotor’s thigh, caressing his hips as he reaches for his stomach, bringing a shiver out of him. His other hand pumps up and down at the base of Lotor’s dick, taking in his mouth as much as he’s able to in his hurry.

He feels warm and dizzy as he senses Lotor’s claws scratching his scalp, his fist closing on his brown hair. Heavy breaths turn into his name, mumbled in a moan. Lance quicken his pace, moaning back around Lotor, shivering himself to the sound.

And with a strong jerk, arching his back away from the door, a grunt rumbling deep in his throat, Lotor comes. Lance immediately chokes – okay, maybe he _is_ a bit rusty – and pushes on Lotor’s thighs to pull away.

“Oh qu-! Lance, I’m-“ gasps Lotor, bending over to look at Lance, breathless and dazed.

“…’s okay-“ manages to mutter Lance, coughing once to clear his throat, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand.

“-I didn’t quite control my strength, a thousand apologies-“

“I’m good-“ Lance assures, rising to his feet, but Lotor is still babbling away, worried he might have hurt him.

“-I’ll get water and a-“

Lance rolls his eyes and grabs Lotor’s face, placing a light kiss on his lips to stop him. “What you’re gonna get is lotion,” he says, pressing his hips against Lotor’s, rubbing the swelled shape in his own pants against him. He lets his hands down, pulling up Lotor’s pants, sighing. “The faster the better,” he breathes into Lotor’s mouth as he kisses him again.

Lotor lets himself be kissed, his muscles slowly loosening, then respond to Lance’s lead, passion flaring up once more. He grabs Lance’s waist, holding him close, burrowing his face in Lance’s shoulder. Lance blinks, confused by the sudden shift.

“Uh… Lotor, not to rush you or anything but I’m prett-OW!” Lance couldn’t complete his sentence that he feels Lotor’s teeth sink into his shoulder, near where the large neck of his shirt ends. Lotor raises his head to look at Lance’s stunned face, then growls, close to him. “Wait for me.”

With a smooth movement from his hand, he opens the door and slides out, leaving Lance into the room. Lance is too dumbfounded to say anything witty, staring at the door closing with a hiss. A few tick goes by, where he rubs distractedly his shoulder, then he turns around, staring at the empty bed with rumpled sheets.

What is he supposed to do now? He feels dumb, suddenly : why didn’t he just accompany Lotor to his room? It would have been way faster than wait for him to come back. And he could have teased him about solitary pleasures again, in his own quarters.

He walks to the bed, turns and bends his knees to sit down, but quickly comes back up. _Nope_. He is waaaay too turned on for this position to be comfortable. He could remove his clothes, he figures : no pants, no pain. But then wouldn’t he just look like some sort of seductress waiting on an unsuspected prey to- okay, this is actually tempting, now.

He enthusiastically removes his tunic, kicking his shoes in some obscure corner of the room, never to be seen again – until Coran finds them to put them back in the closet where they belong, that is. The pants fly to the floor in a beautiful arabesque and he’s now clambered up on the bed. He tries out some poses, figuring out which he wants to go with – “Welcome to my bedroom”, “Oh, didn’t see you there”, “Business on the front” – and finally settles for a laid-back in pillows, lazy bent legs look he’d like to call “bored, but oozing sex-appeal”.

He looks all around the room, so that he won’t be staring at the door when Lotor comes back. But as ticks go by, becoming dobashes, he truly begins to be bored and has less and less sex-appeal to ooze.

He gets up on his elbows, staring at the unmoving door. How much time has passed? He isn’t quite sure, now. Lotor’s quarters aren’t on the same floor as his and Allura’s, sure, but they aren’t so far either.

He rises to a sitting position. Did something happen on the way? Lance doubt he could get lost – Lotor’s been in the Castle of Lions long enough to familiarize himself with its halls – but maybe in the dim, night-lit hallways, he might have…

Maybe he’s having doubts. Lance is cold, now, stretching across the bed to pull his tunic back on. Maybe Lotor, away from the excitement of it all, started having second thoughts and decided to stay away from him. Maybe it was pity all along. The thought of it makes him wrap his arms around his chest, his blue tunic warming him up slightly.

Maybe he should just go under the sheets and try to sleep. He’s looking at his pillows, rubbing mindlessly the back of his neck, when the door slides open suddenly, startling him.

“I got it,” declares a still dishevelled Lotor, a small bottle in his hand brandished in victory, sighing loudly as if out of breath, “and I almost walked into Coran on the way…” he trails off, eyes on Lance. Lance, who is blushing from head to toes now that he realizes his butt is hanging out of his tunic like some sort of unintentional skimpy outfit. He opens his mouth to justify his appearance, but Lotor is already shedding his shirt, getting to the bed in three strides.

“I thought I told you to wait for me?” he asks in a low voice, dropping his pants at the end of the bed before climbing on. “I-I was!” defends himself Lance, too distracted by Lotor’s suddenly naked body to realize he doesn’t really have to be defensive about anything. “But you’ve been so damn long-hmmmm…” His critic ends in a muffled moan when Lotor pushes him back on the bed, kissing him hotly. Lotor’s kisses run along Lance’s jaws and neck, nibbling at the skin.

Lance wasn’t oozing sex-appeal anymore, but it doesn’t take time for his whole body to flare up once again. All anxious thoughts are forgotten, washed away by waves of heat and desire. Lotor holds Lance’s collar down with a hand, biting at his collarbones and chest. Lance hisses at the sharp pain of some of them, and Lotor immediately licks over the marks to smooth the burn of it. Lotor’s other hand is pushing Lance’s legs open, allowing him to get closer and reach for his erection. Lance gasps and jerks to the touch, grabbing Lotor’s head with his hands as if trying to immobilize him for a second.

Answering to his touch, Lotor looks up to him and stops, docile, even though his eyes are burning with lust. Lance catches his breath, still holding Lotor, then finally speaks in a hoarse voice. “L-lotion,” he stutters, looking him in the eye. Lotor nods slowly, rising slightly above Lance to find the bottle he had cast aside on the bed.

Lance uses that moment to place himself on the bed, quickly pulling pillows to support his head and back. He pulls his tunic above his head before settling down and glancing at Lotor: he found the bottle and is now pouring a clear thick liquid on his fingers. A fruity smell drifts to Lance’s nose and he giggles, putting his arms behind his head.

“The Emperor will have to tell me where he finds such fine lotions,” he muses, smiling and Lotor looks at him. An amused smile moves his serious face and he comes down above Lance, slick hand inching down his thigh towards his crotch. Lance shivers, smile wavering.

“I’ll buy more for you,” he whispers, rubbing the lotion over Lance’s dick as he’s going down to his ass. Lance wants to talk back, but quickly holds his breath as one of Lotor’s finger slides inside him.

“Relax,” Lotor scolds him softly, feeling Lance becoming tense. He kisses him, caressing his side slowly, gently getting him to loosen up. Lance takes a deep breath and relaxes his muscles, lifting his arms to circle Lotor’s shoulders. “Good job,” praises Lotor into his ear and Lance blushes, mute.

His breath becomes short again as Lotor’s finger slides back and forth, rubbing inside to find Lance’s most sensitive area. Pretty soon – but years later, in Lance’s eyes – Lotor adds a finger, still whispering encouraging sweet nothings in Lance’s ear. “Hurry up,” whines Lance, as Lotor’s fingers rubs over the bundle of nerves that makes him jolt in anticipation. Lotor chuckles, amused by Lance’s impatience, but obliges and pushes a third finger in, himself feeling his endurance thinning fast.

He works them diligently, Lance writhing under him, whines slipping past his lips. “Come on, come on,” gasps Lance, pushing clumsily Lotor’s arm away to signal to him to remove his fingers. “I’m ready, just- come on,” he insists, eyes half-closed, face flushed.

Lotor growl, low, and kisses Lance as he grabs one of his thighs, holding him still. Lance can’t keep his moans from leaking out as Lotor pushes in slowly. His toes curl in the air, and he pushes his head backwards to be able to breathe, Lotor’s mouth leaving wet kisses on his exposed neck.

Lotor gives Lance ample time to catch his breath, restraining himself by nipping at his throat. Lance’s body is hot under his lips, burning: are all Alteans this warm? Lance’s arms loosen a bit around his shoulders, a hand finding its way in the white locks of hair. His blue eyes are pleading when they meet with Lotor’s. He’s ready.

Lotor pulls back slowly, then thrust his hips forward, taking Lance’s breath away once more, his expression warping and his voice weak. Lotor bites his lip as he repeats the motion, letting go of Lance’s legs and placing his hands on either side of him as not to hurt him with his claws. He picks up a steady pace, thrusting again and again, Lance’s expression melting into a soft, flushed look of pleasure. His hand is pulling at Lotor’s hair now, willing him closer. Lotor can’t help smirking at this, breaking his rhythm to ram into Lance. The new uneven motions pull whiny sounds out of Lance’s mouth, his arm holding Lotor’s shoulder tighter. Their faces are close, now and Lotor breathes out a soft sigh, brushing his lips against Lance’s cheekbone, listening closely to the shifts in Lance’s voice.

Lance hooks his legs around Lotor’s hips, gasping suddenly. “Coming,” he manages to mumble, holding his head up to lean into Lotor’s shoulder, “coming, coming-“ he continues breathlessly as Lotor’s adjust his thrusts to match with Lance’s plea. A few more thrusts, Lotor’s quick breath near his ear, and Lance comes in a shudder, mouth soundlessly opened.

Lotor keeps going back and forth until he feels Lance sliding down, laying limply on the pillows, his chest rising and falling with difficulty. Lotor comes to a stop to kiss Lance’s chin, bringing a smile on his tired lips, before pulling out. Lance protest with a grunt, grabbing Lotor’s arm, speaking too fast for his overworked jaws: “You’re not done…” But Lotor shakes his head, brushing back Lance’s dark hair that had stuck to his skin with sweat to place a light kiss on his forehead.

“Almost,” he says in a breath, laying next to Lance before taking a hold of his still-hard dick, stroking it quickly. His free hand snakes behind Lance’s head, pulling him closer to kiss him. Lance rolls on his side to face him, responding to his kiss with clumsy endeavor, his hands running up his sweaty chest.

They make-out sloppily as Lotor pump his hand, bringing himself to the breaking point. He grunts deeply, pressing his face hard against Lance’s as he comes on the bed, hand slowing down until it finally stops moving. Lotor’s breath is short as he looks at Lance under heavy eyelids. Lance smiles a tired, content smile, then wraps his arm around Lotor’s waist to cuddle up to him.

“Hm? Are you falling asleep already?” asks Lotor, a soft chuckle heard in between two breaths.

“It’s been a while, okay…” mutters Lance, placing his ear against Lotor’s chest, listening to his crazy heartbeat like to the most perfect lullaby.

“I’m not challenging you,” assures Lotor, rubbing his cheek against the top of Lance’s head.

“Hmm.” Lance feels his whole body going heavy as his sweat evaporates, leaving him cold. He feels Lotor moving, then the weight and warmth of his sheets wraps around him.

“Sleep well, Lance.”

“You need to leave before Coran comes,” murmurs Lance, snuggling up against Lotor’s chest anyway.

“Coran will come?”

“…t’wake me up…”

“I will only stay for a while, then,” he says in a whisper, “don’t worry.”

Lotor’s arm slides under Lance’s head, his hand running through his hair. Silence settles on them, their breaths a duet in the rumpled bed. Sensing no more movements, the lights in the room dims slowly: night has finally fallen on the new lovers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Lots of things happened on my end and I don't have that much time to write, but I'm still trying to keep up my pace! (･ω<)☆


	10. Conspiracy

“Lance, are you awake?”

The voice comes to him through a heavy fog. He hums a noncommittal answer, unmoving. He’s so comfortable and waaarm…

“I’m leaving now. I’ll see you later, alright?”

Lance shivers when he feels the warmth he was pressed against desert him. He whines, stretching an arm, but a soft chuckle answers him, pushing his arm back close to his body. The heavy blanket is pushed closer to him, keeping him warm. Comfortable again, Lance settles down and sinks into a deep sleep once more, unaware of the door opening and closing. He slept a few more vargas, undisturbed, as sound as a baby.

 

 

 

That is, until the whole room suddenly lurched forward, an unimaginable loud sound screeching throughout the castle like a wave. Lance is thrown to the floor by the motion, awoken brutally by the cold flooring hitting the side of his face. He tries to get up in a panic, heart beating fast, but his sheets are tangled all around him. He only managed to get to his knees that the ship shudders once more, throwing him to the ground again while the lights blink wildly in the room.

Alright, Lance is scared now. What is going on?! He kicks the sheets away and get to his feet. He takes a few seconds to breathe, putting his thoughts in order. He was sleeping. Something happened to the ship. The lights are steady now.

He has to figure out what just happened.

Lance darts toward his closet, taking some pants out. He puts them on, then grabs the first shirt-looking-thing he sees: his blue dressing gown. He wraps it around himself while putting his feet into his discarded shoes, before running out the door of his room.

He sprints in the empty hallway towards the closest windows, sliding on the floor when he tries to stop suddenly. He grabs the windowsill, peering into space. At first, he feels relieved, reassured that no ships seem to be firing at them. But that relief is short-lived, when he notices that some domes are drifting away slowly, severed or damaged bridges floating uselessly in between the castle and the glass structures.

New Altea is falling apart.

“No, no, no,” he says quickly under his breath, sprinting once more. He has to get to his Lion : he can’t let the domes drift away! Are they even functioning properly? There is an emergency hatch system; if it worked out, the entrances to the domes should have sealed tight as soon as the bridges got a leak. But what about the artificial gravity device? The lights? Did anyone get hurt?

Lance jumps into the lift, mashing the button. If no one is attacking them, what happened? Was there an explosion? Was it intentional or a malfunction? New Altea has worked perfectly for decapheebs after Alfor’s death, why would it break now?

He runs out of the lift as soon as the door opens and runs headlong into a hard surface. “Oof!” He staggers back, surprised by the shock, but a few blinks allow him to refocus and recognize the object that blocked him-

“Hunk! Stars be praised,” Lance breathes out, relieved to see his friend. The balmeran is wearing his Lion’s suit, looking as hurried as Lance. “Lance! Great, you’re okay- Oh, wow, your hair…” He shakes his head, chasing the unimportant details out of it. “I’m going to my Lion, the domes are loose and-“

“Yes, yes, I know, I’m going too!” replies Lance, quickly.

“Oh! Okay, great! See you outside!”

Hunk runs towards the Yellow Lion’s hangar and Lance nods before running to Red’s. He feels safer, now that he knows Hunk is also on the case.

It’s only when he reaches Red’s hangar, putting his hand to the panel, that he finally stops to think about the inhabitants of the Castle of Lions: how are the others? Allura and Shiro? Coran?

Lotor?

He, himself, got roughed up when whatever happened, happened: anyone could be hurt! He stays frozen for a tick, but a roar from Red takes him back to reality. “Right,” he says, looking at the crouching Lion’s maw. He gets in, lets himself fall into his chair and type away on the command panel as soon as it lights up. Red is out of the castle in a matter of ticks.

After a quick round of the Castle of Lions, Lance realizes that the situation isn’t as bad as he had first thought: the side he could see through the window was heavily damaged, but the rest of the structure looks mostly unscathed. There is a suspicious damaged trail on one side of the main tower of the Castle, though, but it doesn’t seem to affect the Castle’s functions.

There are only three domes fully detached and drifting, the others hanging onto their bridges.  Galra Ships are slowly moving out of the way to avoid a collision with them. Lance is thankful for the quick actions of these pilots.

Lance dials Hunk and the balmeran pick up almost immediately.

“Hunk here,” he says, his face appearing on the holoscreen. “Where are you at, buddy?” inquires Lance, looking at the stats that Red displays quickly for him.   

“I’m going towards the dome closest to my hangar,” replies Hunk. Lance glance over the screen, seeing the speck of yellow soaring towards said dome. “Roger that. Remember: no claws. Try to direct and stabilize it with your head and sides.”

“Is it that fragile?” Hunk seems worried. Lance shakes his head, pulling his levers to dive towards the farthest dome. “No, no, but in the state they are, we don’t know if the structure is weakened. Our Lions’ claws might chip them and create a leak.”

“Got it, I’ll be careful.” Hunk cuts the communication and Lance focus on his own task. He catches up with the dome, then rounds it to place Red in the center of it, nudging it gently with its side. He feels the force of the perpetual motion working against him for a few ticks, but soon the opposite pressure makes it yield and the dome starts to make its way back towards the Castle.

He’s so concentrated on the task, adjusting minute angles in his way, that he almost jumps when a call from the Castle beeps loudly on his console. He taps the button quickly, Shiro’s face appearing on the screen.

“Lance, Hunk, bring the domes towards the docking bay,” he instructs rapidly, “Allura is coming out to meet you, she’ll use her ice ray to stabilize the domes to the platforms.”

“Got it,” comes Hunk’s voice.

“Got it,” repeats Lance, adjusting his trajectory. He turns his head towards the holoscreen, scrutinizing Shiro’s worried expression. “Shiro, what happened?”

“I- We don’t know yet,” dismisses Shiro, shaking his head. “Coran is down in the Castle’s core for now, we haven’t got any update yet-“

“Did you see Lotor?” The question slips past his lips without him even noticing and it takes all he has not to start babbling in embarrassment to cover his inquiry. Shiro nods.

“Yes, he’s contacting his generals right now,” Shiro says, looking to the side, as if Lotor was only some ways over to his right, “he’s gathering information and ensuring they get out of the way.”

“I see.” Lance somehow manages not to sound suspiciously relieved by the news. So, Allura, Shiro, Lotor, Coran and Hunk are fine. That’s a relief. Wait-

“What about Shay?”

Shiro frowns, as if he didn’t get the question, but Hunk’s voice answers before he does. “She’s fine, bud. She got startled, but she didn’t get hurt.” Lance nods, sighing. “Good.” He should have known that Hunk wouldn’t be this calm and focused if he wasn’t aware of Shay’s status.

He goes under a bridge with his dome and finally sees the docking bay, the Blue Lion already at work with Hunk’s dome. The Yellow Lion sees him and comes to his side, helping him nudge the dome around, taking it so settle smoothly against the other one.

“Hold it still,” comes Allura’s voice. Lance frowns: she sounded very… strained. Well, it’s to be expected, with what is suddenly happening. Once the dome is stable enough, Lance and Hunk fly to the last dome still drifting to bring it back to the others, Allura swerving left and right to create a mesh out of ice. All in all, it takes almost a varga to steady the whole thing.

“Good job guys,” comes Hunk’s joyous voice. But Allura doesn’t seem to share his enthusiasm. “Get back to your hangars. Meeting on the Bridge.”

Lance can feel his heart squeezing in his chest, muttering a “Understood” as he watches the Blue Lion speed back towards the Castle. Hunk and him dart towards their own.

It only takes a few dobashes for them to get to the console room, but Allura was already there way before them. She is waving her arms around, making holograms spin and enhance, looking at damage reports blinking all over the Castle’s system. Shiro is at her side, staring at the graphics, while Coran’s voice comes from the console, speaking quickly.

“-and the reactors are now back online, princess!”

“Perfect, Coran. Please do fix the electrical issue in the generator’s room while you’re down there,” replies Allura, brow furrowed. Her hair is messily tied up, indicating the brusque awakening she had, but she took the time to put on her suit before taking her Lion out. 

Lance glances around the room, noticing that some of the Consulate’s members who stayed behind for the Kral Zera’s operations are anxiously waiting for answers, quiet in their corners. Hunk glances at Shay, crouching near the window, and shows a victorious thumbs up before following Lance towards Allura’s podium. Lance waves at Shay and scans the room to find Lotor on one side with one of his generals. He’s wearing his armor and speaking into a commcast, a somber expression on his face. Seems like Lance is the only one who didn’t take the time to change into his suit. He feels a bit exposed, now, wearing his dressing gown in public. He doesn’t dare go to Lotor, and looks up to Allura.

 “Will do,” assures Coran from wherever he is, his voiceline flattening on the holoscreen then cutting off. Allura inputs some quick codes in the Castle’s system before bringing her arms back together, making the hologram disappear. Lance expects her to turn around to face the crowd, to give some sort of explanation of what is going on, but she does not. Instead, she spreads her arms to her sides, two poles rising up from the ground to meet her hands: the controls for her wormhole ability.

“Wait, Allura?” Lance frowns, stepping forward quickly, but Shiro is already in front of her, looking grim. “You can’t, princess, the damaged lenses might not support the jump,” he says, low and fast, throwing careful glances around.

“Whoever did this wanted us to stay put, we have to get as far as possible from here,” she replies in a hushed, yet pressing tone.

“What is going on?” pipes up Lance, but nobody pays any mind to him. “But if we jump and miss, we’ll still be exposed and lack some of our defenses to boot! It’s better to stay here and defend-“

“New Altea is damaged, Shiro! Civilian lives are on the line!”

“Let’s call Pidge back. Let’s wait for Voltron to-“

“No! We have to get out of here _now_!”

Allura’s tone is slowly rising and Lance feels the air in the room starting to pulse with nervousness. He climbs the few steps separating them, speaking in the same hushed voice. “Alright, both of you explain to me what is going on : you’re freaking people out.”

Allura turns to him, but she is too startled by Lance’s appearance and Shiro speaks before she does. “Somebody smashed some of our scaultrite lenses, rendering our main reactor, laser and wormhole capacity null. Coran managed to replace the missing lenses with the damaged ones we changed back before the Kral Zera but I say it’s too unstable to attempt a jump now.”

“And _I_ say,” huffs Allura, glaring at Shiro, “that whoever did this wanted us here and that we should get as far as possible.”

Lance is numb for a tick, overwhelmed by information, then shakes his head. “I’m with Allura,” he says, “we must try to protect the civilians first and foremost.”

“Uh-huh,” that’s Hunk, coming close as well, looking nervous, “and, like, fast, because we’ve just spent a varga patching things up and whatever reason they had to immobilize us must-“

A pink flash brings everyone’s attention towards the window, silence falling on the Bridge. A Galra battlecruiser just exited hyperspace near Feyiv. Hunk sigh in relief. “Oh great! The Blade is back!”

“Put the shields up!”

They’re all startled by Lotor’s shout. He’s running to Coran’s console, turning to them to shout once more as his hands are typing away on it. “The shields! NOW!”

Allura waves her arms up, bringing up the holograms and type away quickly. Lance can see the newly arrived battlecruiser’s blaster charging up and feels his body go cold. The purple light bubbles up at the tip of the raygun and shines brightly as it launches towards them.

People scream of terror, on the Bridge, looking at death coming their way, but the blue grid of the Castle’s shield forms quickly in front of them. New Altea shakes from the impact, but no harm comes to them yet. “It’s the rogues,” mutters Hunk, staring at the ship.

“Shiro, Lance, Hunk, to your lions! Hurry!”

The three men run towards the chutes to the hangars without a moment of hesitation, listening to the princess’ command. Lance only has the time to see Lotor press a button on Coran’s console to fire at the hostile ship before being taken away by the zipline.

The chute is way colder without the Paladin’s suit, but Lance has no time to think about that. All his nerves are roaring in alarm, his skin feeling like thousands of insects are crawling over it. He sprints towards Red as soon as his feet touch the ground, diving into his maw for the second time today. The Castle shakes again as the Lion is rising, ready to leap through the door.

Shiro’s face appears on the holoscreen as soon as Lance leaves the hangar. “Hunk, get your canon ready. Lance and I will provide cover.” Lance rises above the Castle to assess the situation: three more battleships have appeared, next to the first one. They’re concentrating their fires on the Castle while fleets of fighters are buzzing around Lotor’s Generals’ ships, diverting their fires to keep the main units safe.

Lance swears under his breath, speeding towards Hunk and Shiro’s lions while materializing his jaw blade. He takes out a few fighters on the way, twirling in between ships, but there are really too many for only three Paladins. If only Pidge was here, they could form Voltron!

But she’s not, and Allura must stay on the Bridge until Coran arrives, but it could take a while and if there is a need to evacuate she’s the only one who can wormhole Constellation City away…

“Lance, focus!” Shiro’s voice startles him and he snaps back to the moment. The Black Lion is dancing around, gracefully taking out enemy ships to protect the Yellow Lion while its canon is charging up. Lance pushes his levers to join in, crushing a sneaky fighter under his claws before leaping to another.

The beam of Hunk’s canon shoots close to Red’s tail, but Lance doesn’t stop a second to look, slicing and clawing and biting and crushing. He sees, through Red’s eyes, the flames that sparks up when Hunk’s beam makes contact with the central battlecruiser, smashing a dozen of fighters on the way.

A series of explosions goes off on the cruiser’s side, and the ship splits in multiple pieces, drifting apart in fiery bits, dispersing the fighters. “Good job Hunk!” comes Shiro’s voice, the Black Lion shooting down enemies with it’s tail laser. “I need a dobash to charge up again, guys.”

“Leave it to us,” assures Lance, pulling his levers to come back closer to his friend. He gives his all to keep the Yellow Lion safe and allow Hunk to charge up his blaster. He’s spending so much energy pulling and pushing and twisting in his seat to plug his bayard into the console that sweat is now matting his hair to his forehead. The Castle of Lions fires powerful shots also, but at an erratic pace, as if the damaged scaultrite lenses were making them hesitant to fight back. It’s up to them to protect New Altea. It’s up to Lance to protect everyone.

“I’m ready, guys,” declares Hunk, the Yellow Lion bracing itself to shoot at the remaining hostile battlecruiser. “Alright, Lance, let’s scatter,” says Shiro, the Black Lion suddenly changing trajectory to get out of Hunk’s way. Lance pushes Red into a nosedive, looking back at Hunk, looking with hope at his canon’s light bubble up and spring towards the battlecruiser, when he notices a fighter going straight for the paladin.

He manoeuvres quickly, going up, and smashes into the fighter to keep it from diverting Hunk’s ray. Red is sent in an out-of-control spin into the void, crushing Lance with the gravitational force of it.

The Red Lion’s foot jets start up, stabilizing itself. Lance takes his head in his hands and lean back a tick, fighting the nausea. “Thanks Red,” he mutters, straightening himself to focus. He peers outside and see the last battlecruiser burst in flames. A wave of relief just washes over him. The Castle is firing multiple precise shots, taking out hostile fighters as Shiro and Hunk hunt down the remainder. Lance takes back his levers to join them.

Fighters are automated: without the main ships, they kind of buzz around and shoot uselessly and are fairly easy to dispose of. Soon enough, the Lions are hovering in a mess of metal scraps, slowly drifting into space. They stay there in silence for a few dobashes, gazing around for any sign of an incoming attack. But nothing comes.

“Alright, team, back to the Castle.” Shiro sounds tired and Hunk and Lance simply confirm the command before turning to their hangars. Lance lets Red go back on autopilot: now that the tension has fallen, he really feels his too-short night of sleep hitting back. His body is sore and he already felt in need of a shower before sweating so much. His hips are the worst, though: all of this action isn’t the best after…another kind of action.

He tightens his dressing gown around himself, trying to look presentable as he walks back to the Bridge. He runs his hands in his brown hair, slicking it back, then steps into the room. The consuls are huddled in groups, standing closer to Allura’s console, more worried than ever. Lance spots immediately Coran’s bright orange hair: the man is standing next to Allura, explaining something with frowned brows.

Lance stops behind a group, next to Hunk who got stuck in the same spot when he entered. “What is going on?” asks Lance, but his friend only gives a nervous shrug. He’s looking around for Shay and Lance knows he can’t get anything out of him right now.  Well, he’s too tired to insist anyway.

The door to the Bridge opens once more and Shiro steps in, looking just as tired as he is. He walks up to Lance and Hunk, peering into the crowd. Lance stares at him, then bump his arm with his elbow. “Hey. Good work.”

Shiro blinks, as if only now aware of his surroundings and looks at Lance. “Oh, uh, yeah, you too,” he says, smiling weakly. Lance frowns. “You okay, Shiro?” Shiro is pensive, hesitant, then looks at Lance, speaking softly : “I’m not sure, I think-“

But he’s cut short by Allura’s voice, who speaks while facing the window.

“Early this morning, the Castle of Lion collided with a Galra battleship,” she states to the room, confusion rippling through them like a wave. Coran twirls his moustache, peering into the room. “A malfunction in the engine caused the Castle to deviate from its programmed orbit and we were too late to rectify the trajectory. It has now been dealt with.”

Some aliens seem relieved by the explanation, soft murmurs going through the Bridge.Lance remembers the damages to the Castle’s tower : so that’s where the ships had collided. Allura continues and the voices die down.

“A rapid investigation, however, revealed that multiple scaultrite lenses used to power up our teludav and main engines had been smashed.” Her tone is accusatory, now, and Lance notices that she isn’t looking at the window: she’s glaring at Lotor.

The Emperor has turned around to face her, grave expression on his face. “This indicates sabotage,” she concludes, slowly.

People tenses up once more, all eyes turning to the Galra in the room. One could feel the animosity rising steadily. Lance’s mouth is agape, his eyes darting from Allura to Lotor.

What is going on?

Lotor doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move from where he stands, only holding Allura’s gaze. She doesn’t give in, speaking up once more. “How familiar are you with the Castle’s layout, Emperor?”

Lotor takes a tick to answer, breathing in slowly. “Not as much as I’d like. I don’t really have the leisure to explore it.”

“Are you aware of the functioning of its engines?”

“I know you use balmeran crystals and scaultrite lenses,” answers Lotor, voice steady, “but I do not know the process of it, nor the location of your maintenance areas.”

“The Castle started deviating from its course at the 19th varga, last night,” she goes on, almost cutting Lotor’s answer short. “Where were you, Emperor, at that time?”

Lotor’s eyes dart quickly to the side before coming back to Allura, and Lance knows he just kept himself from looking at him. His heart skips a beat: is Lotor trying to cover their escapade… for him? Right now, he could easily throw away the information without much repercussion: assure everyone he was under the very care of their Prince and freeing himself of all suspicions. But that would compromise Lance’s status. And so he doesn’t say anything.

As Lotor keeps silent, Lance steps forward, squeezing past people to walk towards Allura’s center console.

“He was with me,” he says, loud enough to be heard by everyone. All eyes are on him now, and he’s keenly aware of his dressing gown and ruffled hair. There’s no time to feel weird about that now. He stops at the base of Allura’s podium, looking up to her. She seems confused for a tick, staring at him. Lance continues before she can overcome her emotion.

“We were in the public gardens,” he points towards where Hunk had stayed back, “Hunk and Shay can attest to it, we parted ways just moments before.” He tries to keep a stoic face, fully aware of how much he twists the facts – Hunk and Shay left around the 16th varga at most, and even if they did talk of the gardens with them, the balmerans have no proof that they indeed went.

Allura stares at him, darkly, weighing his words. “And you say Emperor Lotor couldn’t have been at the Castle at the time the deviation began?” Her tone is much less aggressive now, much softer to address Lance. He takes a deep breath before answering with a reassuring smile. “I can attest of his whereabouts during that time,” he says with a tone he hopes is confident.

Allura observes him still, silent, for some ticks before turning her head to stare at Lotor again. “Emperor, I want an investigation to be held. Please do round up all your people that had access to the Castle in the past quintant.”

Lotor puts his fist to his chest, looking stern. “Understood, princess.” He turns to his general, saying something to him before following him towards the door. Lance catches Lotor’s eyes on his way out and he manages to smile at him, feelings bubbling up in his chest.

Allura finally turns around towards the room. “Please, everyone else remain here. Shiro and Hunk will gather any information you can provide concerning odd events or behaviors.”

Voices pops out from all over the room as people speak to each other, worried and excited all at once. Allura steps down from her console, showing the door with a move from her head. “Lance, come with me.”

Uh-oh. Lance glances at Hunk while following Allura, but his friend is already preoccupied with worried consuls and their entourage. They exit the Bridge and walk along the corridor in silence. Allura opens the break room’s door and let him go in before ducking in herself. Lance feels a bit stressed, rubbing the back of his head, when he turns to face her. She has her hands on her hips.

“What are you not telling me?” Right to the core.

“What do you mean?” Lance tries to act innocent, cocking his head to the side. Allura frowns. “I know you; you did not tell me everything just now. Why is that? Are you covering for Lotor? Why? Did he threaten you?”

She looks concerned and stern at the same time and Lance surprise himself, thinking how Shiro rubbed off on her. Lance waves his hands, shaking his head. “No, no, nothing like that, it’s not that. I don’t lie to you, you know I don’t,” he adds, sincere, but his stomach knotting from the delicate situation.

“I know that, but.. you’re acting weird – what is going on with your hair?” A h. Lance blushes slightly, touching his hair without thinking. “I just…” He begins, but Allura cuts him, speaking fast.

“Lance, I’ve seen Lotor’s hesitation: he did not want to speak of what went down last night. What is he protecting himself from?”

“It’s not him-“

“Was he really with you at that time?”

“Yes! I swear we-“

“Because here’s what _I_ think went down,” she says, with sudden reproach in her voice, “I think you left Lotor in the gardens because you were busy with a town girl, last night.” Lance blinks, confused, then shakes his head. “What? No!”

“Then what’s that?” she asks, pointing towards Lance’s chest. Lance looks down and finally notices the hickey showing slightly out of the neck of his gown. He’s mortified, looking up in a panic, mouth opening and closing as his mind works hard on an excuse.

Even if Lance tried to say anything, though, he knows he can’t place a word: Allura is in that worried state where she can only babble on, listing all of her worries and doubts. Simply put: she’s freaking out. And it’s very hard to get her out of that state of mind with words only.

“So, Lance, be completely honest with me, alright?” she goes on, putting her hands together. “At what time did you leave Lotor? Where? Do you know _for_ sure he wasn’t in the vicinity of the maintenance area? Even if you were with him at the time : are you sure he couldn’t have slipped away for a moment?”

“We were together at the time and _no_ he did not leave-“ Lance answers quickly, trying to speak while she catches her breath, but he stops mid-sentence when he realizes that Lotor _did_ go out of the room, last night. When was it? No, it can’t be relevant right now…  “He did not have the time to go to the reactor without me noticing,” he assures, his hands balling into nervous fists.

“Lance, come on-“  

Lance sighs in exasperation to her stubbornness, then grabs the belt of his dressing down, undoing the knot as Allura goes on with her theories and questions, then simply let the clothing slip off his shoulders without a word.

Allura stops mid-sentence, startled and confused. Her eyes go up and down his torso, quickly, and she slowly raises her hands to her head, realization dawning on her. The hickey wasn’t alone; Lance’s golden skin is covered in bitemarks, even some bruises blooming shyly here and there.

“Oh no… no, no, no, Lance, don’t-“ she stammers in a soft voice, shaking her head slowly. Lance raises his hands and eyebrows, as if asking what does she want him to say. She doesn’t say anything. “He was with me,” he repeats, softly, making sure the point is clear, “we spent the night together.”

Allura is stuck in stunned silence for a tick, then throws her hands up in frustration. “With _Lotor_?! Really, Lance?!” Her face is flushed with anger, her voice accusatory as she speaks. “You shared your bed with the _Galra Emperor_?!”

Lance can’t help but feel anger rising quickly in his throat, turning crimson himself. “What’s wrong with that?!”

“What’s wrong wit-?! OH, I can’t _believe_ you right now!” Allura shakes her head, turning her back to him while putting her hands on her hips, like a mother exasperated by a child’s antics. Lance is, for the first time in his life, truly angry at Allura. She has no business treating him like this! He rolls his eyes.

“Oh, right, _I’m_ the one in the wrong here. You can fuck Shiro all you want, but I’m not allowed to be unfaithful to _you_ , princess?” He spat the words out, the spitefulness of  years-old wounds seeping into his words. Allura spins around fast, pale face and eyes wide, and swings her hand at him. The slap echoes in the empty room, sharp and painful.

The air stands still as the sound dies out. Lance feels the pain in his cheek spread in tingles. Allura is out of breath, anger dissolving into shock and regret. She puts her hand on her mouth. “Oh, stars, Lance I’m sorry…”

“It’s okay. I deserve it.”

“No, you don’t,” she says, stepping closer to pick his face gently, drawing him into her shoulder to hug him tight. “No, you don’t, I’m so sorry…” She’s whispering now, holding him close. Lance stays still for a few ticks, then lift his arms to hug her back. His heart is beating wildly. He hadn’t realized how stressful it’d be to confess this to Allura. He didn’t expect her to be angry over it either. Lance wasn’t ready to face her rejection. She’s family.

She holds him, still whispering. “I’m sorry Lance, I’m just… I’m just anxious. And afraid. For a dobash, this morning, I was certain I’d caused New Altea’s doom by going through with this alliance…”

Lance breathes in slowly. He knew it. He knew that’s what was eating at her and he still got angry when she snapped at him. Usually he’s pretty good at being calm in that kind of situation, but… But this is probably too close to him, huh?

“It’s not Lotor,” blurts out Lance, shaking his head slightly. “It might be one of his generals, or a rogue soldier – any Galra – but not him. I trust him.”

“And I trust you,” Allura says this with utmost confidence, taking Lance’s face in her hands again to look at him. Lance stares back. All anger has disappeared from her traits. She only looks tired now. A small smile appears on her lips.

“So, you have a thing for long, pale hair huh?” Lance blinks, then laughs, blushing rapidly. “Stop it.” They had talked about his crush on Allura decapheebs ago, but he’s still embarrassed about it. Allura laughs, then brings back her hands.

Lance crouches to get his dressing gown back. Allura sighs, looking at him. “You should go get changed into your Paladin armor. Just in case.”

“Yeah, good idea,” replies Lance, knotting his belt once more. He looks up at Allura who’s still staring at him. He waits patiently for her to speak, deciding not to rush her when she’s so obviously tired already.

She finally sighs again, smiling. “It’s good to see you this way,” she says softly, and Lance takes a moment to understand she’s speaking of his appearance. He runs a hand through his brown hair. “Really?”

“Yes. I missed your eyes,” she adds, considering the deeper shade of blue they’ve taken. Lance bites the inside of his cheek, thinking.

“Should I… change back? To my royal appearance, I mean.”

“Lance, you’re royalty with or without the hair.” Allura says it with a smile, but her eyes are stern. Lance has a small laugh. “Yeah, okay…” Allura pats his arm, smiling. “Changing back or not is your choice.” She pushes strands of hair behind her ears, straightening herself. “I have to go back to the Bridge.”

Lance nods. “I’ll meet you there,” he answers, going towards the door with her. He turns towards the lift, but Allura holds his arm. “Lance.”

“Hm?” Lance looks at her, eyebrows raised. She looks about to say something, closes her mouth, then smiles.

“Let’s talk later, okay?”

“Sure?” He smiles too, as she lets go of his arm to head towards the Bridge once more. Lance goes to the lift, quickly. He sighs when the door closes, touching gently his slightly swollen cheek.

Well… this happened. He leans against the wall, crossing his arms on his chest. He really doesn’t know how to feel about all of this. Well, he’s overwhelmed more than anything: his heart is still racing from the crash, the rescue, the attack, the meeting and the… confession?

He feels guilty. Deep in his guts, he feels the twist of betrayal. Even though it’s been clear between Allura and him that they weren’t truly a couple, he still felt shame when he told her about his night with Lotor. It’s that guilt, more than anything, that made him lose his temper… Gosh, he really didn’t want to tell her, but in the stress of it all it just seemed natural to do so.

He rubs his arms, frowning. He didn’t want to tell her. Was he… was he going to tell her, at some point? Was he going to keep it secret? She had kept Shiro a secret for a while – he presumes – and only told him truthfully because he discovered their relationship. Would she have told him, if he had never walked in on them? Does he prefer the truth being out already of would he have rather kept his mouth shut – and gown on – until he was forced to tell her?

One thing is for sure: either way, he wasn’t planning on telling her _now_. Not right after the thing became official.

He stares at the door, hands stopping on his arms. Is it official? Lotor and him? Well, as official as an illicit relationship can be, that is. He frowns. That’s stupid. He shouldn’t think about that. He can’t expect commitment to a volatile romance. Especially since Lotor will leave New Altea at the end of his diplomatic stay.

Oh.

Lance is still staring into nothing when the lift’s door opens. He had forgotten that the Galra were not in New Altea to stay. And New Altea will certainly not orbit around Feyiv for much longer. Constellation City is a mobile, multicultural symbol of freedom, travelling around the galaxy to bring peace to the universe. There are no reasons for it to stay put. Not here.

The door of the lift is about to close automatically when Lance finally exits, going quickly to the equipment room to get his suit. He’s changed and back in the lift in a few ticks, so used to it that he could do with his eyes closed – or his mind wandering, as of now. He’s anxiously biting his nail when he comes back to the Bridge.

The next vargas are going by in a blur: they interview every member of Lotor’s crew, look at the Castle’s data, go into town to make sure of everyone’s well-being, bring supplies to the disconnected domes to help them out for the time being… So much so that the day is almost over when the Paladins are finally off duty, allowed to go back to their quarters. No definite suspect has been found: every Galra that had access to the Castle are accounted for, with pretty strong alibi. As no more attacks seems to be on the way – for now – they decided the best course of action was to rest and come back at it next quintant.

The consuls have gone back to their quarters as soon as they could, some of them even planning their leave – to be at the center of the action was not a pleasurable experience for them, unsurprisingly.

Lance is drained. Mentally, physically, spiritually: he’s going back towards his room on autopilot. He spoke a bit with Hunk and Shay and settled plans with Allura to get breakfast together in the morning, but he didn’t get to speak with Shiro nor Lotor: Shiro went with Coran to the machine room, while Lotor had left with some of his soldiers once they were done with their interrogation. It’s not as if he _had_ to speak with everyone, but... it reassures him.

He’s all alone in the silent hallway, away from the panicked hubbub that has been buzzing since that morning, and the quietness of the place is making his eyelids heavy…

“Hey,” comes Lotor’s voice and Lance raises his head. The Galra Emperor is standing by his bedroom’s door, still in full armor. Lance doesn’t even answer, nor stop and simply walks until he bumps into Lotor’s chest, face pressed against the hard, metallic surface. Lotor sighs, putting his warm hand on Lance’s nape. “Good work out there,” he says in a low voice. Lance hums in answer, taking a few ticks, eyes closed, to appreciate the softness of the hand on him.

“You didn’t get hurt, did you?” Lotor sounds concerned, and Lance exhale slowly: it feels good to have someone worry over you. He went all around making sure everyone was okay, but to have Lotor turn the tables on him… He shakes his head – or, well, roll it on Lotor’s chestplate – before speaking in a dull voice. “I’m good. What about you?”

“I didn’t fight out there like you have,” answers Lotor and Lance open his eyes. Lotor’s other hand rests lightly on Lance’s hip. “Should we go inside?” he asks, hesitantly, aware that they cannot be seen this way and cannot act freely in the hallway.

Except… they can? Kinda? Maybe?

Lance looks up, cheek smooshed against the chestplate. “Allura knows about us.”

“What?”

“I told her. Sorry.”

Lotor looks shocked, at first, but nods in understanding.

“Thank you,” he says, keenly aware it was to protect him from suspicions. Lance shrugs. Lotor cocks his head to the side. “And she… accept us?” Lance smile groggily. Lotor said _us_. All kinds of feelings are swelling in his chest. “Well, I’m not sure yet. I think so. We’ll talk about it.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah.”

“So this mean… that I could have slept in this morning?”

Lance raises an eyebrow, looking at Lotor’s amused eyes. Oh, right. He left early as to not be found out by Coran. _Hah_. That’s what they were worried about, this morning. Weird how it seems irrelevant, now that all hell broke loose. Lance has a small laugh. “We can still go back to bed.” Lotor smiles. “I’d like that.”

Lance straightens himself, rubbing his cheek. His brain is still pulsing with questions and worries, but it can all wait for tomorrow. “But first I really need a shower,” he says, looking up at Lotor. Lotor’s hand tighten a bit on his hip. “May I join you?” He’s smiling, bending slightly forward to look him in the eye. Lance brings his arms up to hang on Lotor’s shoulders. “Great, you’ll keep me awake.”

Lotor laughs, brushing his hand against the wall panel to open the door before dragging Lance inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, that was a big one! I got sick twice and fell hard in between those two chapters. October is starting and I'll be very busy with the Inktober, so please be patient for next chapter! I'll try to work as much as I can on it. We're getting so close to the end and I'm pumped! Thanks for reading, as always <3


	11. Loss

In the empty and silent hallway, the hiss of a sliding door lets loose a booming voice from inside.

 “-and so, the whole room was covered in jogwash. And that is how I lost my first tooth!” concludes Coran, literally sparkling with pride, as he steps out of the room. Lance follows suit, smiling politely. “That’s great, Coran. Surely a story I will recant for my grandchildren.”

“Oh, oh, you flatter me, my prince,” replies the man, oblivious to the sarcasm in Lance’s voice. Lance turns around to thank the seamstresses in the room, before closing the door once more. He had the last adjustments done to his outfit, just as late as last time, but he was too busy working on New Altea’s repairs in the last few quintants to come by and do them.

To get the domes stable again was a challenge, but the real work has been the inspection that took place: every dome and every bridge was thoroughly looked over and mended to assure no damage was left from the impact. A weakened structure is as good as a broken one, after all: it would be a terrible thing for a civilian to be hurt in a sudden break when they thought all danger was passed. Pidge came back with multiple Olkari – even Ryner was here, this time – and so the workforce was sensible for the task.

As they worked away, though, they couldn’t help but notice that the atmosphere in New Altea was tense. The citizens’ morale was low, their trust in the alliance slowly wavering: despite the multiple dangerous events they’ve been confronted to during the war, however how close danger came, never has Constellation City been broken to this extent… How ironic that the most passive action is what caused the most damage.

Allura and Coran convened that they had to take action; wash away people’s worry, raise the spirits, lighten the hearts! And they seemed to have the perfect event presented to them: most of the Galra troops sent chasing after the rogues were back, the Empire almost at peace within itself. Even the Blade confirmed they had only one lonely fleet left to take care of before they could return: Haggar’s fleet, Zarkon’s witch. No doubt her druids were proving to be tricky, but she can’t elude the Blade forever: the Space Alliance would prevail.

And as such, with the Empire on the verge of a rebirth and New Altea soon to be mobile again, it seemed an official peace treaty ceremony between the Galra and the Space Alliance was in order.

As most of the Paladins, alchemists and techs were working away on the repairs, Allura, Coran and volunteers started planning the event. It slowly blossomed into a grand ceremony, followed by a banquet, dances, games; all sorts of festivities, really.

They were to spend the night away, until the early vargas, where another small ceremony would take place: official goodbyes. The Emperor and the Princess would say farewell, vowing to keep their alliance dear, and New Altea would warp away, drifting towards new worlds as their allies would work towards rebuilding their nation.

It is why Lance needed yet another fitting, with some new garments: apparently, the outfit he wore at the hearing of Lotor’s plea wasn’t appropriate for this new event! Coran insisted that what the royals wear must send a message: there’s going to be a lot of people present at the event and even those far away should be able to recognize their ruler and understand their intentions at a glance. And so, Lance tried to lighten the load of work of the tailor by coming by quickly in between repairs, but it wasn’t much.

But after a few vargas of efficient work and Coran’s encouragement, he’s now dressed in his brand-new ceremonial attire: delicate silver shoes, high-waisted white pants, high-collared white blazer with long silver threads dangling from the shoulders. Even his golden crown is donned with silver threads, looping behind his head and shimmering in his brown hair. The blue gem earrings are back in his ears, swaying with his movements as he walks down the hallway with Coran. He is now ready for the festivities to be held, in a few vargas: transport ships can be seen through the windows, bringing residents of New Altea down on Feyiv.

Lance pulls on his sleeves to straighten them, then roll his shoulders to feel comfortable. “Alright,” he begins, looking up to Coran, “is there anything left to do? Is Shiro done with the layout? I could go and-“

“Done since yesterday, my Prince,” says Coran while shaking his head. “Shiro’s coordinating the knights, about now. Princess Allura is most likely still rehearsing with Prince Lotor, and I think Pidge went to, uh, “help” Hunk in the kitchens.”

Lance snorts at that last bit, raising an eyebrow. “You mean she went to get a ton of free food in the name of sampling?”

An amused smile spreads on Coran’s face. “Well, I would never tarnish the reputation of a paladin. But yes.” He looks outside through the windows as they pass them in the hallway, speaking cheerfully. “I daresay there is nothing left to do, my Prince.”

“Huh.” Lance imitates the royal advisor and looks outside. It is so weird to be free, suddenly, when the last few quintants have been nonstop work. Even when the day was over and he went back to his room, he didn’t really have any time to relax: after all, he and Lotor knew full well they only had a certain number of days left together – well, a number of nights, really, as they are busy with their own important tasks during the day. So, they meet at night, in Lance’s room most of the time, sometimes in Lotor’s, and they talk, and they kiss, and they…

Lance feels a painful squeeze in his heart and shakes his head to snap out of it. “Are the knights already down on the planet?” he asks instead, looking at the ships gliding past. “Yes,” replies Coran, stopping to look at the planet down below, hands held behind his back, “they’ve secured the perimeter this morning and organized the orbiting pattern of the Galra ships with the generals to assure no incidents.” Lance nods, breathing out: it’s hard to relax when so many civilians are to be protected. After all, they still haven’t found the person responsible for the Castle’s deviation.

Coran turns to him and pats his shoulder sympathetically. “Do not fret, Lance, this is going to be just fine. We’re all being extremely careful; the crowd is going to be patrolled, and all accesses to the Castle will still be monitored,” he enumerates slowly, raising a finger to twirl his moustache.

It is true that security has been drastically strengthened in the last few quintants: every coming and going through the Castle of Lions has been strictly monitored and recorded, even the Castle’s staff needing proper identification and purpose to be allowed inside. Lotor was still welcome to use his quarters, but only one of his generals was granted access - to relay information between the ships and the Castle. All others were now banned from entry. This didn’t please Allura very much, but they had to reduce the number of people with access to the Castle and, want it or not, New Altea residents still have some mistrust towards the Galra.

“I’m not too worried about the Castle,” admits Lance. He smiles, turning to Coran: “After all, we have a vigilant Coran, patrolling these halls.“ He slaps Coran’s shoulder in an exaggerated manner, trying to humour them both a little.

Coran chuckles, amused, but frowns slightly. “Well, I _am_ vigilant, and I sure know everything there is to know about the Castle of Lions and those within it, but I do not spend my time walking about, looking for intruders. As great as I am we’d still need a dozen of me to cover all the Castle!”

Lance laughs. “Yeah, well, you don’t have to patrol Allura’s and I’s quarters anymore: we can deal with it, so you can check that off your list.”

Coran seems confused now, looking at Lance. “Whatever do you mean, my prince?” Lance blinks, confused himself. “Well, that you can stop looking out for the Royal quarters at night.”

“…I am sorry, Lance, but I don’t understand: when did I ever do such a thing?”

“What?” Lance puts his hands on his hips, turning towards Coran. “Don’t you always patrol those hallways at night?”

“What?” replies Coran, imitating his posture. “No I don’t! I need to sleep too, you know, before I come and wake both of you.”

Lance blinks. “But the other night-“

“What about it?”

Lance is quiet, thinking. Didn’t… didn’t Lotor say he saw Coran _that_ night? When he went out and went missing for a while... A slight alarm is buzzing at the back of his mind. “Coran, weren’t you patrolling the Castle the night of the deviation?

Coran raises his eyebrows. “No! Although I now wish I was. But that night, I was at a nunvillerie in the city with some friends. What is it, Lance?”

Lance bites his lips, frowning, then turns around. “Nothing. Might be my imagination. I got something to do so I’ll see you at the ceremony, alright?”

“Lance?”

“Later!” says Lance over his shoulder as he’s speeding down the corridor.

That night, Lotor said he was slowed down by Coran walking by. What’s up with that? He tries to reach the meeting room quickly, as he assumes Lotor is probably still with Allura, but discovers that it’s not the case as he meets Shay and her in the corridor.

Lance is so preoccupied with finding the Galra that he doesn’t really acknowledge Allura’s compliment – “You look very handsome!” – and speeds away towards Lotor’s quarters as soon as she tells him he went to get changed.

When he bursts into the room, he runs headlong into Meircal, Lotor’s general. She grabs him by his shoulder with a hearty laugh. “Careful, little prince,” she says with her deep voice, “you’ll hurt yourself.”

“O-oh, huh, right, I’m sorry…” Lance is so surprised to hear her speak to him for the first time, he almost forgets why he’s even here in the first place. He steps back and fixes the tangled silver strands on his shoulder. “Is Lo- the Emperor here?”

“Yes,” she answers with a nod towards the back of the room. Lance glances at the closed door to the bathroom at the back, then looks back at her, waiting for more. But she doesn’t add anything, nor seems like she will. “Can I… go talk to him?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.  

She smiles her amused smile and steps aside. She has that mocking, knowing smile every time she looks at him… It feels like she’s entertained by his embarrassment. Lance nods politely and beelines for the door. He knocks, raising his voice a bit. “It’s Lance. Can I come in?”

The door slides open under his fist and he’s face to face with a surprised Lotor. Half-dressed in white pants and an opened shirt, he puts his hand on the doorframe. “Lance,” he begins, visibly confused, “what is the matter? I thought you were with Coran…” As he speaks slowly, his eyes runs quickly up and down, taking in Lance’s appearance.

“Yeah, I was, but, huh…” Lance glances quickly back at Meircal. “Can I come in? I want to talk about something.” A raised brow, a sly smile pulling Lotor’s lips and he leans cheekily against the doorframe. “Ah? You wish to _talk_ , hm?”

Lance feels his face going hot, but stares back with a serious expression. “Yes. It’s important.”

“Oh.” Lotor straightens himself, sensing the gravity of the situation. He stifles his flirty quips, like he does so well, to set immediately in business mode. He steps aside and closes the door after Lance. “What is troubling you?” His stance is stiff, as if ready for combat.

“The night of the deviation,” beings Lance immediately, folding his arms on his chest, “you said you saw Coran as you were coming back from your quarters, right?”

Lotor frowns, but nods. Lance licks his lips, continuing slowly: “Well, Coran says he wasn’t in the Castle at that time.”

Lotor’s expression falls apart with surprise, then he frowns in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“He was in Constellation City,” continues Lance, “only came back to the castle after the beginning of the deviation.”

“But…” Lotor’s eyes are shifting from side to side, unconsciously bringing his hand to his chin to think. As the silence settles, Lance is… relieved. Lotor looks sincerely confused by all this. Not that he thought he had lied, but…. He sighs slightly, then put his hands on his hips.

“You’re sure it was Coran?”

“I… well, now I am uncertain-“

“Did you _see_ him?”

“Yes. Well… actually, no, I heard someone coming so I, uh, hid.”

“You hid?” Lance is more amused than he cares to admit by this confession, incredulous eyebrows shooting up. Galra’s are, like, the most noticeable creatures in the universe; how can they even hide?  

“Well, yes. I wasn’t exactly in a presentable state so I ducked in a corner,” answers Lotor earnestly, oblivious to Lance’s amusement.  

“Why there?”

“It… was close?” Lotor shakes his head slightly, as if unsatisfied with his own answer.

Lance cocks his head to the side, thinking, then continues, trying to help Lotor remember. “Weren’t you worried Coran would walk your way?”

“No, because I could see him-“

“So you could see him?” cuts Lance, getting closer without thinking.

“Yes! Well, actually… his shadow. I could hear him and see his shadow.” Lotor’s eyes widen with relief as he remembers the details.

“So you never actually _saw_ Coran, you just saw a shadow?” Lance feels his heart thumping. They’re getting somewhere. “Why did you think it was Coran?”

“The… size of the shadow, and… and the direction he was coming from. He was coming from the Royal Quarters.”

“What?” Lance leans back, as if pushed away by the information. ”You’re sure?”

“Yes. He was coming down the hallway and he took the lift. This is why I knew he would not walk past me.”

Lance swings back and forth on his heels, slowly, then shakes his head. “Must have been Shiro.”

“Oh.” Lotor’s expression is a weird mix of culpability and relief. Lance frowns, about to ask what’s the matter, but is suddenly struck with the answer. He has a little smile. “It doesn’t sting my pride or anything like that,” he comments, looking at Lotor, before giving a slight wink. “Besides, I had my own _paramour_ sneaking about, didn’t I?”

Lotor sighs a laugh, shaking his head slightly. He steps closer to Lance, taking his arms. “Well, I would put myself in all kinds of predicaments for you, Lance. Even hiding in the corners of these hallways at night.”

Lance snorts and raises his hands to pick Lotor’s face. “Well, ain’t that the most romantic thing.” He presses his lips against Lotor’s briefly, then pats his chest. “But you should get dressed. I’ll see you at the ceremony.”

“Leaving so soon?” asks Lotor, with a flirtatious smile back on his lips.

“Going to talk with Shiro,” Lance says, with an apologetic smile, as he opens the door to leave. “Wait.” Lotor grabs his hand, pulling him back softly and pins him against the wall, hidden from Meircal’s sight. He speaks softly, close to Lance’s face.

“Tonight, between the ceremonies, let’s slip away.” Lance raises his eyebrows and opens his mouth to answer, only to have Lotor’s soft lips on his. He blinks a few times, then closes his eyes, the stiffness in his shoulders loosening a bit as he kisses him back. But Lotor pulls back too soon for Lance to be able to relax.

His eyes snap open and he licks his lips, staring at Lotor’s face. “I know of some places on Feyiv. We could be alone. For our last night together…” continues Lotor, whispering against his lips. Lance sighs, pressing his forehead to Lotor’s. He… he didn’t want to think about that.

Why is he even going to Shiro’s right now? To ask him if he was up and about in the Royal quarters that night? Why? Doesn’t he have enough problems already? Allura told Lance Shiro had been quite tense lately: he and Allura even fought over stupid little things. Why add this late-minute investigation to the lot? Obviously, it’s not going to accomplish anything. He’s just running on worries to try and keep occupied and not think about-

“Lance?” Lotor is intertwining his fingers with Lance’s, looking at him with concern. Lance smiles. “We have duties to attend…”

“Allura assured me our only duty at that time would be – and I quote – to have ‘fun’.”

“Well, then,” continues Lance, laughing, “maybe we should use that time to hang out with some of your friends for once.” He slides his fingers out of Lotor’s to grab the sides of Lotor’s shirt. He pulls them together to start buttoning it up. Lotor laughs, putting his arms on Lance’s shoulders while looking at his hands working. “You really think the Galra Emperor has friends?”

“You don’t?”

“No. I don’t.”

“Well,” continues Lance, eliminating the crinkles in the shirt’s collar, “you should make some friends. Tonight would be a good opportunity.”

“Alright, why are you being so insistent about this matter?” Lotor picks up Lance’s chin, lifting his face to meet his gaze. He’s smiling softly, white strands of hair falling on his face.

Stars, he loves him.

Lance sighs. “Aren’t you going to be lonely?” he asks, taking Lotor’s hand off his chin to hold it. “Rebuilding the empire… it won’t be easy. Rebuilding Altea sure wasn’t. You’ll need allies. Friends.”

“Lance-“

“Support. We don’t know when’s the next time we’ll be able to see each other and- and for all we know it could be for my wedding-“

“Lance.” Lotor straightens himself and puts his hands on Lance’s shoulders. “We have talked about this. Stop looking so far ahead. Let us manage as it comes.”

Lance groans and lets himself fall backwards, putting all of his weight in Lotor’s hands, in an exaggerated show of desperation. Lotor laughs and pulls him back in an embrace, enveloping him in his arms. “Yes, rebuilding the empire will be difficult. But the Empire is part of the Space Alliance now. _You_ ’ve got our back, do you not? We’ll always be in contact.”

“You’re always so logical…” mutters Lance, after a few ticks.

“And you’re a worrywart.”

“Oh, you don’t even _know_.”

“I’m beginning to have a pretty good idea.”

Lance chuckles, hugging him back. He’s warm. 

“Alright,” he says, pulling away, “you need to finish getting dressed.”

“Right.”

“And I need to get back to Coran.”

“And tonight…?”

“Yes, okay, fine.” Lance smiles, stepping out of the bathroom backwards. He takes a pause in the doorframe, breathing in deeply. “See you at the ceremony.”

Lotors smiles and nods. Lance spins around, thanks Meircal and gets out of Lotor’s quarters quickly. He’s… so tired already. He needs to get down on Feyiv. Get ready. Be so prepared that he can autopilot through the whole thing.

That seems like a good idea.

Finding Coran is pretty easy – his voice carries pretty far, even in a crowd of aliens on the plaza – and Lance can spend the few vargas left in blissful denial, rehearsing his steps on the stage and pleasantly conversing with his subjects. He buries himself in meaningless tasks, helping out wherever he can – he even played games with some children for a while – and in the blink of an eye, he’s standing at the top of the stairs, near the purple flame of Lotor’s reign, flanked by Coran, Hunk and Pidge. Altean Knights form a half-circle around them: a crescent of shining armors and sharp swords. 

Down the stairs, on the plaza, the crowd – Alteans, Galras and aliens of all sorts – is cheering loudly as Allura and Lotor climb the stairs, followed by their respective escorts. Shiro looks unusually stern in his full Knight armor, the blade of his broadsword deflecting the purple glow of the planet’s sky on the grey stairs. He’s quite intimidating, actually, even next to Lotor’s generals.

But Lance is not very interested by the entourage. His eyes are fixed on the two royals. Allura, in her white and gold dress, silver threads looping behind her back from shoulders to shoulders and from her crown like from Lance’s. Lotor, in a white jacket with a long train embroidered in black motifs, silver threads coiled around his shoulders like a scarf.  They look… grand. Resolute. Beautiful. This looks like a wedding, the royal union of a fine pair.

It’s pissing him off.

Lance’s hands are clenched behind his back, his jaws tight. He never thought of himself as a jealous person. He wasn’t jealous of Shiro when he discovered his and Allura’s relationship. He was hurt, yes, he was surprised and confused and heartbroken, but he wasn’t jealous of Shiro. But right now… He’s burning up. Just because he had the thought that Lotor and Allura would look good together. Two beautiful white-haired lords, while he’s only a common mutt watching from the sideline.

Woah.

Where did that come from?

Lance shakes his head a bit, willing his hands to let go of each other. This is not the time. If he can’t handle this, he’ll have to turn his attention elsewhere… and that’s just what he does: he let his gaze hover over the crowd, listening to the speeches he’s heard a thousand times now, the unwilling participant to both Allura’s and Lotor’s rehearsals.

Allura’s voice, proclaiming the Altean-Galran alliance, the end of the war, welcoming Lotor in his forever seat at the table of the Space Alliance. Lotor’s voice, thanking her, claiming the Galra’s desire to abide by the Alliance’s rules, promising peace and prosperity.

People in the crowd are smiling and gaping, eyes wide with hopes and wonder. This soothes Lance’s burning heart immediately. This is it. _This_ is what’s important. Hope. Peace. These people have been living in a world at war for so long. They’ve lost so much. And they’re finally seeing a light, a glimmer of a nonviolent future. When they see the Princess and the Emperor clad in white, exchanging symbolic gifts, they see the end of an era and the beginning of something better.

“What?!”

Lance turns his head around to look at Pidge who just put her suit’s helmet back on. Hunk looks as confused as Lance, but puts his helmet on also. Pidge is speaking low and fast, glancing at Lotor and Allura, continuing the ceremony.

“You need to intercept it, Keith, we’ve got civilians out here-“

“What is going on?” asks Coran, turning towards her. Hunk looks panicked now, his yellow eyes scanning the sky. “Rogue ship incoming,” he says, looking around as if he could spot it. Lance’s body turn cold. What the hell?! The last rogue ship, mentioned in the Blade’s report? They said it was ways over, that they almost caught up to it! Why would the witch be coming this way? There’s no way one battlecruiser can do anything against the whole fleet of the Empire!

“Lance,” calls Coran, now right next to him, offering the red bayard in a discreet fashion. Lance blinks and takes it – when did Coran get it? – before hiding it behind his back: he doesn’t want to cause panic right now. Coran walks back to his spot on the stage, blue bayard in his other hand – he was holding onto Allura’s and Lance’s bayards during the ceremony?

Lance looks up to the sky, where he knows Lotor’s ships are patrolling. This is fine. They’re going to be okay. This is under control.

The crowd cheers suddenly, startling him. Allura and Lotor are side by side, facing the people and waving, their proclamation finally over. Allura is smiling wide and raises her hands in the air, silver and gold bracelets chiming against each other, speaking loud and clear. “Let the festivities begin!”

Over the loud cheers of the crowds, muffled bangs are heard, lights flashing overhead. Everybody looks up in delight, expecting fireworks…

…but there are none. Ships are firing shots, up there. Lance turns around to call out to the team, but the words are strangled in his throat as he freezes up suddenly. Allura is looking up at the fighting ships, hair and silver threads blowing in the wind as her body is already in motion to get to the action, completely oblivious to the danger behind her.

Shiro.

Shiro is swinging his altean broadsword at her open back.

“ALLURA!”

His scream was loud, desperate, and yet he doesn’t even think to raise his bayard up and shoot at the threat, because its Shiro- Shiro is-!

A blur of white, a thud and a clank, screams of terror resonating from everywhere, knight’s armors clanking into action. Lance is frozen, his brain trying to assimilate the chaos. Shiro’s blade had chipped the ground in a spark, away from the crumpled heap of white: Lotor and Allura.

Lotor pushed Allura out of the way. Lance feels a wave of relief wash over him, warming up his muscles and allowing him to step forward. He slithers through the knights, holding up his bayard. A knight is screaming instructions, ordering Shiro to step away and drop his weapon, while all others are hesitating, panicking at the thought of fighting one of their own.

Shiro raises his broadsword above his head, ignoring everyone to strike towards Allura again. She calls his name – Lance has never heard her voice like this – but he still brings down his blade. Lance’s blaster is at the ready, materializing in a shimmer of light. He tries to shoot at the blade, but misses it by a few seconds, his blasts soaring in the air never to touch anything.

There is a muted thump; the sound of metal hitting flesh. Lotor is kneeling forward, shielding Allura, holding Shiro’s blade with his bare hand. Deep red blood trickles down his arm and make flowers bloom on his white sleeve. His arm is shaking as Shiro put his weight forward, trying to break through his guard-

Lance charges, his bayard changing with a white shine, and his altean broadsword hooks under Shiro’s. He brings it up and pushes him back with a shout. Shiro is unbalance for a tick, but soon regains his posture. Lance wants to scream – _Why are you doing this? What is going on?_ – but Shiro’s blade is already coming down on him.

His muscle memory is what saves him: bend his legs to bring his center of gravity closer to the ground, keep his back straight to keep balance – he has practiced a lot with Lotor’s advices in mind. He blocks the blow – so heavy, so strong; Shiro is putting all he has into this – and pushes back, deflecting his blade.

“Shiro stop!” Lance cries out, refusing to charge at him, but still keeping his guard up. Shiro growl, regaining his balance and assuming his fighting stance, turning towards Lance… and he finally sees it.

Shiro’s eyes. They’re glazed over, a yellow glow blurring them. His face is a mask of anger and wildness.

This is not Shiro.

Shiro – _the thing_ – attacks once more and Lance returns the favor. They exchange blow after blow, circling each other on the scene. People are moving around them, too: Lance is vaguely aware of Coran taking things in charge, dispatching the knights to help the civilians take shelter, as ships are getting lower in the sky.

Lance catches a glimpse of Lotor – is he holding Allura back or is she the one keeping him there to fix his wound? – visibly screaming something at him, but he can’t hear a word of it over the sounds of the blades and the shouts of Pidge and Hunk trying to plead with Shiro. Lance wants to tell them it’s no use, and tell them to go help the civilians, but he can’t get a break long enough to utter a simple word. He winces, letting go of the broadsword with one hand to gesture at the other two. “Go!” He takes back the handle quickly, not strong enough to fight one-handed.   

He catches a glimpse of white hair, and Lance turns his attention towards Lotor again, trying to understand what he’s trying to say. It has been just a tick, but he still has to jump to the side to avoid being sliced by Shiro’s sword. His consciousness pieces together the bits of sounds he got from Lotor as his body brings him out of harm’s way. He’s facing Shiro again when the answer clears up in his mind: Haggar.

The witch is responsible. She came closer to New Altea for a last stand, using Shiro as a pawn for her deeds. Lance shivers, cold absolute clarity washing over him like a wave: _Shiro is responsible for the deviation_! Since when has he been under the witch’s control? How is she doing this?

There is a deafening screech over the chaos and the ground trembles from the impact of crashing sentry ships. Lance loose balance, just long enough for Shiro’s blade to scrape his shoulder. Silver threads fall to the ground.

Lance is not good enough. His stamina isn’t as great as Shiro’s, nor did he train nearly enough with a blade to be on par. He manages for now, but he feels his arms losing their strength with every new blow. Sweat is trickling down his forehead, stinging his eyes.

He won’t last long, he needs to end this now. The witch is inaccessible to him; he has to trust the Blade of Marmora on this, has to believe they will bring her down. He can only focus on Shiro: if Lance leaves him be, Shiro will surely go after Allura again… He needs to disarm Shiro. Lotor said he’d gain more power if he swung with his whole body – he also said it would mess with his balance and make him vulnerable. Shiro has already proven he won’t waste an opportunity to strike: Lance’s shoulder stings with each of his movements. If Lance wants to disarm Shiro, he only gets one shot at it.

When is Shiro at his most vulnerable? When would the broadsword be easiest to hit away from him? Shiro strikes with large swings, putting all his strength into it: he would be most open at the penultimate height of his swing. If Lance manages to hit the base of the sword, close to his hands, then…

But to time these attacks, he will have to be defenseless: leave an opening for Shiro to strike. It’s a risk he’s willing to take: he’s running out of strength, anyway, so any second a terrible fatal mistake could happen.

Lance lets his broadsword dangle lower – too low to guard him, still high enough to swing with might.  Shiro charges, as expected: it seems that the witch doesn’t have an absolute control and lets him run on instincts alone. This is good for Lance. Shiro pulls his broadsword back on the side – looks like he wants to cleave him in half from the flank. Lance lowers his stance a bit more and readies his muscles. One chance only. One blow.

Shiro starts to swing. A sharp movement, a powerful swipe – if it touches him, Lance would certainly be… but it won’t. Lance swings as well, throwing his whole body into the movement. They move fast, it is a split-second decision, but Lance knows he won’t miss: he’s the team’s sharpshooter, after all, he’ll hit his target.

The blades come in contact, and there is a moment where Lance’s stomach turns, dreading a miscalculation, but then sparks fly out, the shock resonates in his wrists, and both blades go flying, twirling into the air before clanking on the ground. The red bayard takes back its original appearance while Shiro’s sword slides way off.

Lance’s balance is thrown off and he falls hard on one knee, catching himself on his hands. He’s breathing hard, blinking to get the sweat out of his lashes. He… he did it! He raises his head, light with relief, to see if Shiro also fell.

He didn’t. In fact, Shiro is coming at him full speed, a purple malevolent glow emitting from his right hand. The fabric of his sleeve is burning up, the metal parts of his armor warming rapidly to a burning red.

Lance had completely forgotten about the galra tech making up Shiro’s arm.

And he's now defenseless : he has no bayard- he-he needs help! He needs his Lion-

A deafening roar and a rumble sweeps everyone off their feet. Red is standing above Lance, his landing raising the dust in aggressive whirlwinds. Shiro stumbles briefly, but still goes for the shot-

-before being blocked by a sudden wall of ice, spontaneously sprouting between him and Lance. Lance can see the purple glow through the cold blue barrier as Shiro’s hand strike the hard surface. He blinks, looking up to see Blue looking right at him from the sky. Something like a purr echoes through his mind, a warm feeling trickling down from his brain to his heart; love, safety, scowling. Like a mother protecting her cub. Then a low growl tinted in red, bringing energy, courage, strength; a brother cheering you on in a fight.

His family is still with him, after all.

The purple glow on the other side of the ice disappears. Shiro is probably going back to his primary target. He can’t let that happen. Lance pushes on the ground to get up, and raises his hand. The red bayard suddenly materializes in it. It never happened before, but, somehow, he knew it would work this time. He takes a deep breath, then make his blaster appear.

“Red,” he calls out, and flames belch out of the red Lion’s maw, melting the ice. Through the flames, Lance can see silhouettes moving fast on the scene. He can see the empty plaza littered with ships scraps; the evacuation is successful, it seems. He steps forward.

Shiro is going after Allura, slashing wildly through the air with his bionic arm, purple arabesques of light shining in the dark. Allura evades him skillfully, her blue bayard’s whip in her hand, her eyes and markings glowing with power.  She looks determined, not even trying to speak to him. Lotor is chasing after them, holding Shiro’s broadsword with his uninjured hand, and he uses the flat side of the blade to deflect Shiro’s swings when they come too close to Allura. They seem to have a plan. Allura looks concentrated, as if only waiting for an opening to strike.

Lance will give her one. He raises his blaster to his face, closing an eye to focus. He points the muzzle of his weapon at their feet, trailing their movements until he can get the shot. Rapid blasts in front of Shiro’s feet, stopping him in his tracks. A few ticks of immobility. Allura’s eyes widen – its what she was waiting for! – and slings her whip at Shiro’s legs, tangling them before pulling it back hard.

Shiro’s finally thrown off balance and falls backwards, his back hitting the ground hard. Knowing his cue, Lotor raises the broadsword up with both hands and brings it down on the fallen knight. Shiro screams in agony as sparks fly up from the stump of his mechanical arm. The prosthetic rolls away with metallic clanks as Shiro’s body convulses, his screams only getting louder.

Lance runs towards them, lungs on fire from being out of breath for so long. He almost throws himself on Shiro, but Lotor grabs him and holds him back. “Lance, no-“ he says in a breath, wrapping his arms around him to restrain him. Lance wouldn’t have had the strength to fight back anyway.

Allura is kneeling next to Shiro, her hands firmly clasped to the side of his head. She looks strained, as a soft blue light emits from her palms. Ticks go by, seemingly an eternity, but Shiro’s screams gets quieter and his body goes limp. Soon, he’s unmoving and silent, eyes closed. In this odd silence, only their quick breaths and the muted explosions overhead can be heard. Lance is shaking uncontrollably; exhaustion, adrenaline, fear... He swallows with difficulty, his mouth dry.

“Is- Is he…?”

Allura raises her head to look at him, and smiles meekly before shaking it. “He’s okay,” she says, “he’ll be fine.” She takes his limp hand while speaking, holding it between hers. Her eyes are watery, but she seems relieved. Lance sighs and his knees give in, Lotor’s grip the only thing holding him up.

“I got you,” he assures him, going down slowly to kneel with him. The whole plaza is suddenly bathed in a bright red light. Lotor, Allura and Lance look up to see, through the haze of the atmosphere, the exploding husk of the battlecruiser; the last of the rogue forces, taken down at last. Lance throws a glance back to the red and blue lions. They are silent, inactive, aware that danger is passed.

Lance called Red to him. He called Red and yet Blue showed up too, after giving him the silent treatment for such a long time. He gets it. He gets it now. He tried to rely on Blue for too long, when he should have relied on Red. She was staying out of the way. She wanted him to grow.

Did he?

Lance looks back to Allura. Tears are running down her cheeks, as she looks to the sky, holding Shiro’s hand on her heart. He wants to say something. He wants to tell her she’s the best, the strongest and the bravest. He can’t.

“It’s over,” whispers Lotor, eyes fixed on the debris burning up upon entry in the atmosphere.

_It’s over_ , thinks Lance, as he closes his eyes, the loud cheers of the hidden citizens only a blur at the edges of his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally managed to finish this chapter! I moved, I started a new job and went through lots of seasonal parties, but here it is at last! Hope you enjoyed it! I can't guarantee how long it'll take for the next and final chapter, but I'll do my best. See you then, guys!


	12. Star dust

Ships are cruising lazily from battlecruisers to Feyiv, from Feyiv to unfinished-domes, from unfinished-domes to the Royal Warship, like the calm, perpetual cycle of aquatic life. It reminds Lotor of one of the planets his father made him conquer. They had beautiful aquariums and the creatures would lazily swim by, unaware and uncaring of the destruction happening around them.

Lotor had heard about Daibazaal’s oceans. He’s been told they were huge, beautiful, yet dark and mysterious. He would have loved to see them, but, alas, he never had the opportunity to explore his homeworld : Daibazaal met its end when he was still too young to even remember it. And so, he observes the ships in space, leaning back in his seat, wondering if those oceans would have looked like this.

How did the oceans look on Altea? That planet – his mother’s planet – has always been forbidden to him. Because of the war, because of his lineage, because of its doom. So many things he would have loved to see and experience… so many things Zarkon took away from the Universe.

He will ask Lance. He will ask Lance to tell him about the oceans on Altea.

“Emperor Lotor, you’re doing it again.”

Lotor breathes in quickly and straightens himself, pulling his hand back. He had begun to draw constellations without even noticing it, tracing lines between the stars. He hears Meircal’s snickers, but pays her no mind as he rolls his shoulders to sit properly on the captain’s chair. He clears his throat, gazing upon the bridge’s crew before asking about the fleet’s status.

“Still on course,” replies an operator, “they should arrive in 20 doboshes.” Lotor’s chest feels tight at the words, but he nods curtly with a serious expression, not letting his excitement show.

Lance is coming.

How many pheebs has it been since they last saw each other in the flesh? A decapheeb and a half? A decapheeb and six pheebs? It was the day after Haggar’s last stand, where she took over Shiro’s mind to try and assassinate the princess; Lotor and Lance said goodbye, bearing bandages over their wounds, uncertain of where their future would lead them. Has it been so long already? They spoke to each other only a few quintants back, but that videocall feels faded and unsatisfying now that the real thing is on the way.

Too few calls, they had. Often at unjust hours, neglecting sleep to see each other for a few doboshes only. At first, work and calls with Lance kept him focused. But quickly enough, solitude started weighing on him. He hadn’t expected Lance to be right, but admitting it did make Lotor’s first decapheed as Emperor easier: he was becoming lonely. He got tired, distracted, irritable. It’s only when he got out of line and was harshly brought back to his senses by Meircal’s bark that he noticed the dangerous path he was headed on. That’s when he remembered Lance’s concern, before they parted. And with Meircal being who she is, well… Lotor just suddenly became aware that she’s been trying to reach out to him, as a friend, for a long time now. Honestly, he was quite appalled by his own obliviousness. 

They now have a much more relaxed relationship. They call each other a friend – although she still refers to him as “Emperor” in public – but Lotor still feels tense from time to time. Making friends is hard. Lotor is a smooth talker, a social prodigy: he’s able to charm, inspire and threaten just as easily. He’s spent decapheebs all over the galaxy, mingling with all sorts of aliens, never really encountering any trouble. But to open up to a fellow Galra is… different, that’s for sure. Their rigid culture too often gets in the way.

He runs a hand through his hair, glancing towards his general, but regrets it as soon as he notices her amused smile. He huffs and then swipes his hand on his chair’s arm to bring up his holoscreen. Looking over some lengthy reports on the construction statuses of the domes will certainly help him get Lance’s arrival out of his head – right?

He had just approved of Dome #3’s final plans that morning. New Altea shared their own blueprints with them, but they still had to work hard to adapt them to their needs. The Space Alliance has been very accommodating, even allocating resources and experts to work on the Daibazaal Conservation Project. They spent almost a decapheeb gathering viable samples of the planet’s soil, vegetation and animal remains. The Royal Warship’s lab – once the witch’s lair – was now filled with experiments, eager scientists from all over the Space Alliance working day and night over them.

How long has it been since the Galra worked to preserve life?

Lotor immediately noticed the change in his people. As soon as the Empire’s effort were reoriented towards reparation and growth, the stifling atmosphere looming over them started to dissipate. The shift wasn’t immediate – there was some reluctance felt, at first – but soon their hesitations melted away. He’s never felt such excitement from his troops since the day they announced that they managed to bring back to life a plant native to Daibazaal.

“It’s hope” had said Lance, during one of their calls, eyes twinkling with excitement. Lance has been more than eager about the Daibazaal Conservation Project, always inquiring about its progress and enthusiastically questioning about its fauna and flora, telling Lotor stories of Altea in return. The first dome is just about ready to receive its first samples. He can’t wait to tell Lance.

“Altean fleet approaching, Emperor.”

Lotor’s heart could have jumped out of his throat. He looks up, dismissing the holoscreen, to see a twinkle, a speck of light, growing steadily bigger and brighter with each passing tick. The shape quickly gets discernable: a small cluster of domes anchored to a main unit, a medium-sized white ship. It is flanked by a hive of travel-class ships, hovering close.  

Soon enough, a call beeps on their screen and one of the sentries picks up. The smiling face of a blonde Altean fills the screen.

“Officer Romelle, calling from Nova One,” she declares, barely containing her enthusiasm, “requesting permission to dock.”

“Permission granted,” replies a lieutenant, maneuvering the Royal Warship to position their hatch with Nova One’s.

Lotor stares at the vessel with scrutinizing eyes. Its main unit is not unlike the Castle of Lion, but the differences are notable: understandably smaller, it sports only two tower-like reactors latched onto a central oval body. Three domes are dragged in its cruise – or, more so, are helping its movement with small stabilizing propulsors, emitting a faint blue glow. They’re interconnected in an intricate mesh of bridges, looking far more rigid and sturdy than New Altea’s flexible structure. Lance had told Lotor about the Novas as they were being built, but he hadn’t quite pictured them this way.

Another bridge is now extending towards the Royal Warship, creating a path between their ships. Not even a tremor is felt by the crew as it latches on, but Lotor does feel his stomach sink. “Bridge is secure, pressure is normal: hatch is now open,” comments his lieutenant, and Romelle, the altean officer, replies with their own status. Everything is going smoothly.

“The Ambassador is requesting permission to board,” comes the woman’s voice and Lotor gets up at the words. He nods towards his communicating officer, turning his heels to walk towards the door. “Permission granted,” he hears his lieutenant say as he leaves the room.

He barely notices the sentries following closely behind him, directed by Meircal, as he strides towards the docking bay. Each echoing step is getting him closer to the door, closer to the path between the ships, closer to him.

He opens the door to the sass and stops so suddenly in the door frame that his entourage almost smack in his back in a ridiculous line. In the room, freshly emerged from the bridge, gazing curiously at the walls:

Lance.

He turns his head around to look at them – gold circlet atop dark brown hair, deep blue eyes – and a bright smile lights up his face. He spins on his heels, his cape flying round – he’s wearing the same garment he wore the first time they met, when Lotor arrived in New Altea to bring his plea to the Consulate. He walks up to him, and Lotor breathes in, as if he’s been underwater for so long, and only just now reached the surface and Lance’s smile is the warm touch of the sun-

“Emperor,” says Lance, in place of a greeting, as he stops in front of him. He’s holding his hands in front of him, so much like Allura that Lotor can’t help a smile tug at his lips. His eyes linger on the golden ring on his finger, but he quickly looks at Lance’s eyes. “Ambassador,” he says, having finally found his voice: a soft voice, affectionate. Lance’s eyes are also smiling, their deep blueness twinkling, like the most perfect waters, inviting. Lotor raises a hand, turning it around slowly to brush his fingers against his cheek-

“Happy to see you again, _Emperor_ ,” comes a voice as Lance is pulled back, out of his reach. Lotor blinks and suddenly see Lance’s entourage. Some Alteans he doesn’t know, looking polite and excited. But also, Keith, the Galra from the Blade of Marmora, glaring at him with a scowl, his big clawed hand on Lance’s shoulder. Lotor first thought was about how he really didn’t seem happy to see him again. His second thought was that this was the first time he saw Keith out of his Blade uniform: he’s wearing a blue shawl atop a simple cool grey armor. Lance seems amused, brushing off Keith’s hand. “Yes, yes, Keith, what a nice sentiment,” he comments, turning back towards Lotor. “Queen Allura sends her regards,” begins Lance as he fixes his cape, “and thanks you for your wedding gift.”

Lotor inclines his head in a polite manner, holding his hands behind his back to avoid any skirmish with Keith. “It pleases me to know it was well received,” he confesses. “It is galran tradition to offer a blade to a couple exchanging vows.”

“A beautiful sword,” praises Lance, sincerely, “King Shiro practices with it often.” A warm feeling washes over Lotor at the words. _King_ Shiro. He still feels this rush of relief every time he hears of the royal wedding: each mentions just makes it even more official, more tangible.

Lance is no longer promised to Allura.

A few pheebs after the official end of the war, their union was broken. Lance had told him it caused quite a stir – although everyone knew of Allura and Shiro’s affair, no one ever expected them to get officially engaged. This didn’t happen without a load of stress and troubles, though. This meant a huge change for Lance, his status unstable once more. But Allura insisted on keeping him close, on treating him like family still: he kept his title of prince, and his position in the Castle of Lions. Lance truly became Allura’s brother; so why is he still wearing that ring…

“Shall I give Nova One’s reports now, or are we moving somewhere else?” inquires Lance, quite the diplomat. Lotor snaps back to reality: this is the official arrival of the Space Alliance’s Embassy, after all, and some protocols must be respected. Lotor steps aside, showing the way with a polite bow. “We will move to my office.”

Lance inclines his head in answer, then walk past Lotor to the corridor. He greets Meircal brightly, as Keith follows him closely, right on his heels, glaring at every person that meets his gaze.

Lotor smiles and greets all of Lance’s escorts as they walk nearby, before inviting them all to follow him. He feels a bit… irritated. He’s longing to touch Lance, to speak with him, in whispers, exchanging stories and sweet nothings, making up for lost time… But all these people and procedures are in the way. It’s not the first time he thought politics were bothersome, but it sure is the first time it makes him want to growl in annoyance.

The next varga is spent sitting around a table, Lotor and Lance acting the part of diplomats as they do the inventory of Nova One – everything from its crew, its civilians, the engines, their food, water and air supplies to the competences of each of its working members. They also established a schedule of the next few quintents to help the Nova One crew settle in their new environment and pair each technician with their galran homologue.

At that moment, Lance also introduced the alteans accompanying him: they are, respectively, two scientists and an engineer, who are quite eager to begin working on the domes alongside the Galra. And as Lance moved on to Keith to conclude the introductions, Lotor noticed his slight hesitation and frowned.

“And Keith is… assigned to my personal safety,” he says finally, turning an apologetic gaze towards Lotor.

“What?”

The word escaped Lotor’s mouth without him realizing it. Keith’s mouth turns into something akin to a smirk. “Is there a problem, Emperor?”

Lotor turns his gaze towards him, before putting a pleasant smile on his lips. “I wasn’t aware that the Blade of Marmora repurposed themselves, is all.”

“As a matter of fact, they have,” says Keith. “The Blade is now a humanitarian organization, helping civilizations to build themselves back up. But I’m not here as a member of the Blade. I’m here on duty as a Knight of New Altea,” he concludes, putting a hand to his armor in some sort of polite salutation that still comes off as cocky to Lotor.

“ _Aspiring_ knight,” corrects Lance. Lotor’s eyes snap towards him, but Lance mouths something that seemed like “I’ll explain later” and simply brought all of their attention back to the matter at hand to move on to the next point of the meeting.

But Lotor’s mind is constantly wandering back to Keith. Keith, a knight? Keith, assigned to Lance’s security? He’s been glued to him this whole time, glaring and keeping Lance out of touch…

This is going to be a nightmare.   

He wasn’t very excited at the prospect of embassies, when Allura first sent them New Altea’s proposition. He wasn’t against it, he just didn’t see how small envoys of the main ship throughout the Space Alliance’s territory would benefit them.

But when he learned that Lance was one of the ambassadors-to-be, he became overjoyed, his support for the project shifting around 180 degrees. For the first time, they both saw a perfect opportunity to be reunited whilst still accomplishing their duties.

It was a long project in the making: New Altea had perfected their dome building techniques, but it still took a few pheebs for the first ship in the Nova series to be completed. And here they are: Nova One and its crew, ready to set an example to all the other embassies throughout the universe. With Keith to mess with Lance and Lotor’s relationship.

Lotor breathes in deeply. He focuses his attention on Lance, listening to him listing very seriously the functions and duties of New Altea in this new state of being. After a minute only, a smile floats on his lips. This can’t be so bad, can it?

In all honesty, Lotor never expected to live a happy life. He thought he’d been doomed from birth, destined to inhabit a cold and uncaring system. His whole education, given to him by frigid masters, revolved around domination and fear and the idea that he shouldn’t embarrass his father and, still, Lotor only wanted one thing : for Zarkon to be proud of him. But it never could be – the Emperor was a dull man, empty of all emotions, only motivated by greed and ravenous for destruction.

And Lotor thought he’d be just like him.

He drifted through decapheebs on anger alone: every action, every plot, motivated by that burning rage in his heart. Even though he was trying to do the right thing – rid the universe of his father’s reign – he never even entertained the possibility of things getting _better_ : he just thought he could stop this senseless devastation and do something with the rubbles. Lotor didn’t think the Galra could ever change. He was prepared to simply have to hold down his people with an iron fist and tame their murderous urges during his own rule. He told himself he’d have to kindle this fire in his guts forevermore until his death.

But when Zarkon was weakened after his fight with Voltron… when Lotor finally had the chance to face him on his own, to strike him down… He realized the fire had been long extinguished. That he was a tired husk of himself, operating mindlessly on the lessons he’s been taught his entire life.

Domination.   

Reaching out to the Space Alliance was only a way to gain power over his Empire, to impose his ideas on them. It also meant no further hostilities, so that he could concentrate his remaining strength on guiding the Galra in a new direction. He was heading down to his fated path of isolated frustration, but…

But then he met Lance.

Their first meeting was irritating; just another hurdle to jump over on his way to power. Evolving inside a conquering empire must make one cynical, because he never thought he could come across such an earnest person when it came down to politics. Someone who just wanted to do good by their people. Lotor couldn’t believe such honesty was genuine, kept on trying to find the flaw in Lance’s airtight act of the Good Prince.

But he never did.

He never did find a flaw in Lance. Instead, he found himself endeared by his silliness, and his rude smart-mouth comments. He became nervous at the thought of being disliked by him, anxiously looking for ways to connect with him. And when they finally started talking, as equals, Lotor wondered if he’d ever been so at ease with someone else.

He finally felt things. Felt alive.  

So, what if Keith is here? What if he makes things a bit more complicated? Lance is still here, still so bright and proud of his work. And his blue eyes linger on Lotor’s just long enough for him to see the soft affection residing within.

He’s waited too long to get discouraged now.

This newfound resolution motivated Lotor, but didn’t make the rest of the day easier, still: Keith’s actions are obvious and purposely done to keep them as far away as possible from each other. Even during the feast, offered as a welcome to the Nova’s crew, Keith would hover about Lance, never letting himself be distracted by any of the people or delicacies around him.

With Meircal’s help, Lotor managed to keep his cool, but sadly never got a chance to accost Lance on his own. This is alright, though. They’ll see each other tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after and every day for decapheebs, as long as Lance’s Ambassador duties keeps him in Galra territory. He didn’t have the chance to touch him today, but he heard his voice, and saw his smile and felt his joy as he shared a meal with Galra and fellow Altean. And that alone makes Lotor feel warm and light.

“That would be the nunvil, Lotor,” corrects Meircal as she helps him remove his armor.

They’re standing by his bed, in the imperial quarters, and he scoffs at her words. “Don’t make light of my feelings.”

“I would never. But that lightness and warmth you are feeling are typical symptoms of too many indulgences in nunvil,” she explains carefully, smiling deviously as she pointedly makes him sit down to remove the leg parts of the heavy armor. Lotor is unaware of his flustered face and hazy gaze, oblivious to the amount of drinks he gulped down all night while staring longingly at the altean ambassador. But Meircal saw it all: she was forced to look at this fool staring at this other fool all night long.

“I could get him alone, you know,” she continues, putting aside the pieces of the armor, “you only need to ask and I’ll distract that Galra knight.”

“No, Meircal,” sighs Lotor, laying down on the bed. “As tempting as it is, I think it would only make things more complicated.” He brings an arm over his eyes – why are lights so bright? “Lance will decide himself on the boundaries he’ll allow or not.”

That’s how it should be, right? After all, even though Lance did scold Keith from time to time, he never expressly told him to stop or tried to get away from him. Doesn’t that mean he wants this distance between them, at the moment? Lotor doesn’t mind. He understands that, in his position, Lance would want to maintain a certain… decorum. And maybe, after spending a decapheeb apart from one another, he feels…. Different about him.

Meircal opens her mouth with that glint in her eye, ready to make fun of him, but knocks on the door save Lotor from the humiliation. He sighs, rubbing his eyes before rising up on his elbows. Meircal and him looks at each other and she puts down the piece of armor she held before going to answer.

“If it’s about anything else than the reports for tomorrow’s briefing, it can wait,” grumbles Lotor, rubbing the nape of his neck to relieve tension. He thought this kind of thing would stop once he became emperor: as he wouldn’t be in exile, wouldn’t be on the run, he wouldn’t have to be disturbed by his crew at any time of the day or night for all and any matter, right? Wrong. It keeps happening nevertheless. The good thing, now, is that he can refuse to deal with the problem until he got a few hours of sleep in. But…

“It is a matter you’d want to take care of now, Emperor,” comes Meircal’s voice, and Lotor breathes in slowly to keep his cool. He gets up – way faster than anticipated, now that’s he’s only wearing the black undersuit of his armor – and rounds the bed to walk up to the door. He has on his face his best “Annoyed Look”, so that whoever decided to disturb him this late would at least be quick about it. But a quick glimpse of white fabric on golden skin makes his eyebrows shoot up and his pace quicken. He reaches the door like one leap over a finish line and lets an incredulous sound escape his lips as he stares down at Lance.

Lance looks a bit dishevelled; gold circlet and earrings are gone, and so is his blue cape and golden belt, leaving his white tunic loose and arms bared. Lotor quickly throws glances at either side of the hallway, half-expecting an angry Keith to pop out of nowhere. But he doesn’t seem to be anywhere nearby.

Instead, Lance clears his throat, cocking his head to the side. “May I come in, Emperor Lotor?” he asks, a slight irony in his voice, although his face stays serious and genuine. “Yes,” replies Lotor without any hesitation, leaning on the doorway as he feels a bit dizzy.  

Lance smiles and walks inside, while Lotor turns to Meircal. “I’ll be seeing you tomorrow?” he asks to seem polite, but is clearly asking her to leave. In other circumstances she might have fooled around a bit, just to make things interesting, but she knows better than to embarrass his friend right now. “I will take my leave, then, Emperor. Ambassador,” she adds, bowing towards Lance before exiting the bedroom. Lance casually waves goodbye, while nonchalantly walking around the room.

Lotor closes the door, attentive to its slight hiss and to the privacy setting on the lock. He breathes in deeply before turning around. Lance is looking closely at a small magnetic structure on a desk: a metallic knick-knack Lotor kept as a souvenir, although he doesn’t really remember where it came from.

“So,” he begins stiffly, his heart skipping a beat when Lance’s attention is brought back to him, “your, uh, knight has let you out of his sight?”

Lance smiles, raising a finger. “ _Aspiring_ knight. He hasn’t yet been ordained. Part of one of Allura’s programs. Anyway, it’s not like I sneaked out: I told him where I was going.”

“And he let you?” asks Lotor, raising an eyebrow. Lance rolls his eyes, holding his hands behind his back. “He’s not my _master_. He’s a bodyguard. His duty is to protect me in official settings, not in my own personal quarters.”

Lotor feels hot, hearing Lance speak of his quarters as his own – or is he just misinterpreting what he said? After all, he’s still a bit shocked and Lance is slowly walking around the room as he speaks, seeming almost disinterested. This conversation feels… awkward. Like they’re both walking on eggshells while talking about things they don’t really care about.

“You know,” comes Lance’s voice, and Lotor turns around to look at him testing the softness of the bed by pushing his hands into it, “I would have thought the Imperial quarters would’ve looked grand, but this is somewhat… bare.” He smiles, looking up, then twirl around to let himself fall on the bed, flat on his back. He bounces slightly, but sigh as he sinks into the mattress.

Lotor’s heart is beating fast and he has to make a conscious effort to get his legs moving: after so many vargas restraining himself from getting too close to Lance, it seems almost sacrilegious to be walking his way. Lotor stops by the side of the bed, bending slightly forward to look at Lance’s face. “The last Emperor barely slept. As such, these quarters were rarely used,” he offers as an explanation. Lance stares at him with big – blue – eyes and smirks. “I’ll fix that”, he says, wiggling an eyebrow, and sits up to point at a wall. “I’m already thinking of some kind of breakfast area, over there…”

Lotor turns his head around to look at the designated area, then frowns. “What for?” Lotor has the habit of eating at his station or worktable, depending on the tasks of the day: not much free time for the Emperor when the Empire is being rebuild.

As he looks back to the bed, Lance is suddenly kneeling up on it. “So that we can eat together in the morning!” he exclaims, rolling his eyes. He reaches for him, grabbing his shoulders, and before Lotor can react he is pulled – thrown, almost – down on the bed himself. The world spins for a tick – oh, alright, Meircal _might_ have been right about the nunvil – but a few blinks clear his vision soon enough.

Lance is looming over him, hands on the bed. His smile is boyish, mischievous. “How was I, today? Did I do okay? I’m not gonna lie, it was hard to be that serious all along.”

_Oh._ A smile pulls at Lotor’s lips : that is so like Lance to ask a serious question as if it was a joke. They had spoken at length of his insecurities concerning his princely duties, during the nights they spent together, and even that carefree attitude can’t fool him now.

“You were excellent,” replies Lotor in a soft voice, pushing his messy white hair out of his sight to see Lance better.

“Yeah?” asks Lance with a giggle, putting his hands on either side of Lotor’s torso, making him suddenly acutely aware of his breathing. Lance’s smile fades a bit as he cocks his head to the side.

“Are you happy to see me?”

Is that even a question to ask? Is he not aware of how he makes him feel? Lotor’s smiles widen and he nods simply as he raises a hand to pick up Lance’s chin, bringing him closer. He details Lance’s features, following each line of his face with his eyes… how silly to think that Lance wanted to maintain some distance between them : Lance craves reassurance and affection, how could he survive the stress of his new situation on his own? And with Keith always cutting him from others… Lotor should have stopped sulking on his own and thought up a way to get him alone. It is lucky Lance managed it, or they might have kept away from each other for way too long.

“Can I kiss you?” asks Lotor, eyes fixed on Lance’s lips.

“You have to ask?” replies Lance, with a laugh, but he still nods anyway, letting Lotor bring their faces closer. Their lips meet, softly; a chaste kiss. Lance keeps complimenting Lotor on the softness of his lips, but Lotor loves the feeling of Lance’s dry and warm kisses. He missed it.

Lance puts his hands on Lotor’s chest, balancing himself as he comes closer for a second kiss. This one lasts longer, their lips parting slightly as Lotor runs his fingers in Lance’s hair, his free hand rising to rest on the small of his back.

Lance is fully laid on him, now, draping Lotor’s body with his, and their kiss stays slow, almost lazy. Lance is the one who pulls away, raising an eyebrow.

“How much nunvil did you drink?”

“Please, don’t mention it.”

Lance giggles softly, then sighs a contented sigh before laying his head on Lotor’s chest. “I’ve been wanting to do this for a while,” he says as he slides his hands on Lotor’s side, burying them under him to squeeze him in his arms. Lotor chuckles, ticklish to the sensation or Lance’s hands wiggling between his back and the mattress, and he closes his arms around Lance in response, hugging him close. With that simple movement, his body grows warmer, his muscles loosening slowly.

All of that day’s tension, finally gone.

Lance hums softly, looking up to him. “Finally relaxed?” he asks.

“Was it that obvious?”

“That you were tense? Uh, _yes_. You hold your shoulders very high.” He pulls a hand out to trace Lotor’s shoulder. “And you smile, but your eyes… don’t,” he adds, sliding his thumb gently on Lotor’s cheekbone. Doing so, a golden glint catches Lotor’s eye and he quickly grabs Lance’s hand.

The ring.

“You still wear it,” he says, trying to sound neutral while being acutely aware that merely mentioning it shows his annoyance. Lance looks at their hands, silent for a tick, then intertwine their fingers as he begins to speak.

“Allura and I, we’ve worn these rings for decapheebs, you know?” he begins, a bit hesitant. “They were a bond – or rather, a duty that we couldn’t quite ignore. They were given to us as a promise of engagement, but we never… we never saw them as a promise of love, right? It was just… a contract.”

Lance raises his head, putting his chin on Lotor’s chest to look him in the eye. “We talked about it, Allura and me. When we talked about nullifying our engagement. We… we just couldn’t get rid of the rings. Because Alfor had them made for us.” He raises his eyebrows, as if suddenly remembering something. “I thought about it, you know: about why King Alfor decided to give me Allura’s hand instead of finding another pilot for Blue.” Lotor raises his eyebrows, curious, but Lance shakes his head a bit. “I have no clue. Honestly, we never even talked about it once. But I think, maybe… maybe he just liked me? He’s always been nice to me. And he was already calling me ‘son’ before Blaytz’s death. I can’t say anything for sure, but I thought, ‘maybe it’s just that simple’.” Lance has a little laugh, looking to the side, slightly embarrassed. He stares at the ring and Lotor stays silent, aware of how delicate this subject is.

“So… Allura said ‘Let’s keep them’. She said we should give them a new meaning and carry on. And I thought it was a good idea.” Saying this, Lance uses his free hand to help him sit up on Lotor’s hips. “Allura, she… she gave hers to Shiro. When she asked him to marry her.” He smiles looking at Lotor and Lotor feels his heartbeat growing steadily louder. “And I would like to give you mine,” continues Lance, looking down on their hands. His voice is quiet, wavering a bit. “But I’m… I don’t think I’m ready to part with it just yet.” He bites his lip, squeezing Lotor’s hand, then breathes in deeply. “Not yet. But one day, for sure, one day I will.” He looks up to Lotor’s eyes once more. “And that day… will you wear it?”

Lance anxiously waits for his answer. Lotor stares back, then looks at their hands. He sits up, to look Lance in the eye. “It depends,” he begins, holding their hands in between them. “What would be its meaning, then?”

Lance’s face turns an interesting shade of crimson and Lotor is entertained to no ends. “You have to make me say it?” whines Lance, looking up to him with pleading eyes.

“I don’t recall you ever having a problem saying it?”

“It’s been a while!”

“A whi-? You _literally_ said it two quintents ago,” retorts Lotor with a laugh. Lance pushes his shoulder slightly, bashful.

“It’s been a while _in person_.”

Lotor smiles, raising his free hand to push Lance’s brown hair out of his eyes and leans forward to kiss him again. Lance reacts to it, all false annoyance gone, squeezing his hand in his. Lotor murmurs against his lips.

“I would like to hear you say it.”

“…because I love you,” he whispers finally, his lips brushing against Lotor’s with every word. “Because you’re the only one for me and I want you to be part of my family.” Lotor sigh, scooping the back of Lance’s head to guide him towards a deeper kiss. He feels Lance’s free hand creeping towards his neck to cling on his shoulder. Lotor raises their linked hands and breaks the kiss to put his lips to the golden ring. Lance observes him doing it, his breath short.

“If its meaning stays true,” declares Lotor, raising his head, “then that day I shall accept it.”

Lance smiles. “You _always_ sound so poised. How do you do it?”

“Decapheebs of training.”

They both chuckle, warmed up. It’s truly different to see each other in person. It’s as if they’re rediscovering how to be together, all over again.

Lotor wants to rediscover all of Lance.

He lets go of Lance’s hand, looking him in the eyes as he grabs his thighs. “Are you sleeping here, tonight?” he asks in a different, rusty whisper. Lance’s face visibly heats up, as he smiles smugly, putting his arms on Lotor’s shoulders. “I was planning on it.” Lotor smiles, sliding his hands up slowly, feeling through Lance’s undersuit. Lance breathes in slowly and answers to his actions by pulling his tunic above his head to throw it aside.

“Black looks good on you,” whispers Lotor, taking in the sight of the simple sleeveless black suit covering Lance’s body. People wouldn’t guess it, as Lance is of slender stature, but he has quite the amount of muscles: all that paladin training and fighting hasn’t been for naught. And this garment really allows him to feel him up.

Lance laughs. “I can say the same of you,” he retorts, picking at Lotor’s shirt. He stretches, getting up on his knees. “I need help removing this thing; they _really_ tailored it to my body.” He takes Lotor’s hands and guides them to his back, where some buttons help the garment stay shut. Lotor bites his lips: is Lance aware how seductive he is being right now?

He begins unbuttoning the undersuit, raising an eyebrow. “Who helped you get _inside_ it?” Lance giggles, pulling the loosening fabric over his shoulders to slip his arms out. “Coran. He insisted on it. He was quite emotional about the fact he wasn’t going to be helping me dress up in the morning anymore.”

“However will you manage without him?” asks Lotor with a dramatic flair, peeling the clothing off Lance’s chest.

“I’ve always been able to dress on my own,” retorts Lance while rolling his eyes, “I think Coran only did it to check up on me.”

“I was hoping you’d ask my help,” says Lotor in a low voice, pulling Lance closer by his hips to put a kiss on his chest. He feels Lance’s heartbeat flutter against his lips and he tightens his embrace. “I think you’re doing just fine helping me remove them,” mumbles Lance under his breath. Lotor looks up at him and opens his mouth to bite down on his skin. Lance flinches, but the hiss of air rushing in between his teeth betrays his excitement.

Lotor is uncertain why he always feels this urge to bite Lance when they get intimate. It’s as if the heat rushes to his head and lets his instincts take over for a brief moment and he just… chomps on any bit of golden skin he has access to.

How lucky for him that Lance quite enjoys it.  

Lance picks up Lotor’s chin, pushing his head back to look him in the eye. “Don’t leave marks, we have meetings tomorrow,” he muses, brushing his thumb against Lotor’s lips. “Don’t show skin tomorrow,” replies Lotor, biting down on his thumb. Lance licks his lips, grinning. “Tempting, but no.” He pulls his thumb from Lotor’s mouth to pinch his lips shut together, bending forward to whisper in his ear.

“We have people counting on us and important duties, so we’ll have to learn not to _overwork_ ourselves at night.” He throws a glance at Lotor, as if asking if he made his point clear. A low rumble starts in Lotor’s throat and he grabs Lance’s arms to flip them over, pinning him to the bed. His white hair gradually slides off his back and all around their faces, shadowing Lance’s.

“You’re incredibly attractive when you order me around,” he purrs, grabbing the suit at Lance’s waist to peel it off his legs. Lance smiles, raising his hips to help him out. “I’ll keep doing it, then,” he says, playfully and Lotor hums an appreciative answer.

“Be sure to tell me to stop if I go over the line,” he continues in a low voice, discarding the garment. He pulls his hair back to bring his face close to Lance’s, kissing him. He’s almost purring as he nibbles his jawline.

“Take it off,” orders Lance, grabbing Lotor’s shirt while tilting his head back, baring his neck for him. Lotor has to watch himself not to bite his neck – after all, Lance told him not to leave visible marks – and instead gently licks his skin as he slides down to his collarbone, escaping his grasp.

“I’d rather not,” he taunts gently, spreading Lance’s legs apart to push their groins together, getting a sweet noise from Lance. “If you touch me now, I might _overwork_ you.” He said it as one utters a warning, rocking his hips to rub Lance’s growing erection with his own. Lance breathes in deeply, his whole body flaring up, slowly flushing with heat.

Ah, there it is. The scent.

A galra’s sense of smell is much better than an altean’s, not in an animalistic sense – they can’t pick up faraway scents like predators – but in a refined, bothered-by-strong-smells kind of way. Lotor has no idea if his sense of smell is as refined as his full-blooded Galra peers, but he’s still able to pick up Lance’s scent in moments like this: when he is naked and blood rushes through his skin, he smells of warmth and a kind of sweet flower-like scent, with a hint of sweat. It’s Lance’s smell. It’s the smell he buries his face in when they embrace as they sleep. It’s the smell he missed so much.

Lotor’s breath is getting heavy as he rubs his palms slowly over Lance’s chest. Have his hands always been this big? Has Lance always been this slender? Lance shivers and grabs a handful of white hair, pulling at it slightly. “Lotor.” He said his name in a needy voice, grabbing his shoulder with his other hand. Lotor slides a hand up to pick up Lance’s face, rubbing at his pointed ear as he leans to answer him with a kiss. Their tongues meet, their breaths grow heavier and Lotor feel his whole body heating up. He’s ablaze.

His other hand slides down to grab Lance’s dick and he feels his whole body tense up under him, a muffled moan smothered by their kiss. He loves how Lance responds to him, how obvious it is when he feels good. Lotor never expected to be happy, but he just as well never thought he’d bring so much joy and pleasure to anyone. He bites Lance’s lip, rising a bit on his knees to stroke his shaft more easily.

Lance jolts, gasping, and grabs at Lotor’s shirt again. “Wait- wait, Lotor,” he manages to say between breaths, and Lotor obliges, a deep rumble coming from his throat as he looks down at Lance. Lance reaches down at full arm’s length, the tip of his fingers grazing the edge of Lotor’s black undersuit’s pants. “I wanna touch you too,” he explains with a huff, staring at Lotor with demanding eyes.

He loves him.

Lotor crawls up slightly on the bed, bringing his hips within Lance’s reach. This places his head above Lance’s and he buries his face in his hair. He exhales slowly as Lance’s hands slither in his pants and he begins moving his hand again as Lance wraps his fingers around his dick. A thrill of pleasure moves up his back when Lance begins moving his hand in slow movements.

Lotor looks down at Lance, leaning his cheek against the top of his head. He sees his dark hair, he sees the freckles speckling his heaving chest, he sees their tangled legs and their hands moving in unison. Lance’s quickening breath is letting some broken up moans filter through and Lotor wants to hear more of it.

He brings his free hand to Lance’s chin, pushing his head back before sliding his thumb and index in his mouth to keep his jaws apart and voice free. Lance seems a bit confused, but doesn’t have much time to ponder over this as Lotor changes the pace of his hand and rubs his palm over the head of Lance’s dick. Lance jolts and moans, loud and clear, as he reflexively opens his mouth wide to avoid biting down on Lotor’s fingers. Such a sweet and predictable prince.

Lotor keeps on surprising Lance, alternating between strong strokes, delicate caresses and precise rubbing, his fingers playing with Lance’s tongue and lips to make sure he lets his voice out. Every moan, every whimper, each syllable of his name makes the heat in his stomach grow. Soon, Lance’s nearing his limit, legs shaking, hips buckling involuntarily. He quickly tries to use both hands to work Lotor’s dick, but Lotor didn’t need the extra stimulation: just seeing him so dependant of his touch, hearing his helpless moans, it makes him so…

A deep growl rolls out of his throat as he comes, clenching reflexively his fist on Lance’s shaft, making him jolt and whimper. His breath is quick and uneven, but he doesn’t take the time to regain his composure, stroking mercilessly Lance as he holds his head to kiss his forehead and his cheekbone and the bridge of his nose. A few more ticks are the only things he needs: Lance shivers and comes as well, his breath as ragged as Lotor’s.

They’re breathing out of synch, clinging to each other without a word. Lotor feels his clothes sticking to his body, wet with sweat; maybe he should have undressed after all…

Lance chuckles, taking Lotor by surprise, and he raises his head to look at him. Lance is smiling, looking cocky despite his heavy-lidded eyes. “It’s rare for you to come at the same time as me,” he comments. “Were you that pent up?” Lotor raises his eyebrows, then laughs also. “Yes,” he replies, placing a kiss on Lance’s lips, “it has been a while, after all.”

“What, did you abstain from your _solitary pleasures_ all this time?” muses Lance, turning slightly on his side to look at him. Lotor chuckles again, looking him in the eye. “I didn’t, but it wasn’t enough.” Lance looks shocked, then disappointed, and Lotor worries for a tick. But Lance then groans: “Noooooooo… How come you’re not shy about it anymore? I knew I should’ve teased you about it when I had the chance.”

Lotor bursts into laughter and rolls on his back. Lance laughs also, rising on his elbows, but still looks a bit pouty. Lotor looks at him, amused. “Do not look so disappointed.” He stretches over to kiss the altean markins on Lance’s arm, looking up at him. “I am certain you will find plenty of other ways to embarrass me.”

“Oh, I will,” huffs Lance, even though the kiss brightened his expression. Lotor sits up, then rises from the bed. He shed his clothes before grabbing some fresh wet towels from his vanity’s compartment. He offers one to Lance and they both clean up quickly, helping each other out like they used to do back in New Altea. Soon enough the towels are discarded and they are laid back on the bed, Lotor’s head resting on Lance’s chest. Lance is brushing his fingers through Lotor’s long hair, over and over, speaking pensively. “It’s too bad we have a meeting so early tomorrow…”

“I think we can technically say _today_ , at this point of the night,” correct Lotor, and Lance whines loudly. Lotor laughs softly, eyes closed. The motion of Lance’s fingers in his hair is so soothing, he feels his mind wavering from time to time, being called towards sleep. They dig in gently, then pull slowly all the way to the tip of his hair, alternating one hand with the other, sometimes caressing his ear as they brush past it. Lance’s chest is rising and falling slowly, his breath like the most perfect lullaby to Lotor.

“Lotor?”

Lotor feels his name vibrating in Lance’s chest. He emits a sound to show he’s listening, but doesn’t move a muscle.

“I missed you.”

Even though he’s not moving, Lotor feels his insides flip over, like a tidal wave crashing and splashing about inside. A few little words from Lance suffices to shake him to his core. All these feelings inside of him used to be on a constant and unmoving orbiting pattern, but they’re suddenly deviating from their course as soon as Lance shows up. Any of his actions reshapes Lotor’s world : laying on him right now is almost like leaning on the edge of the universe, like he’s resting on yet unknown wonders and possibilities. Lotor smiles, squeezing his arms around Lance’s chest.

“I missed you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading until the end! This was my first experience writing fanfiction and all of your comments really helped me along the way. 
> 
> I might have mentioned this before, but I decided to shape this story in 12 chapters so that I was able to stay motivated and finish it. But I might come back to this setting and write some additional slices of life someday! If there is something you want to read about, be it in their past or future, or even about other characters in the story, please let me know in the comments below! If a prompt catch my eye, I might write it out~ 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this journey with me - almost a year now! - and wish you a wonderful day!


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